< 


'/-WBAINIHft*  %)JI1V>J0>"       ^/OJUVDJO^ 


«  svfe 


3/ 


#' 


v  t-j>  J.'t  ?    JV  I 


V/j 

,WEUNIVER%       ^1 

— D"bji  3^ 


#< 


^lOSANCEL'.  ^fOf-CAUFORto       4O 


V© 


m  m 


%i 


Ivs 


rm 


o>* 


V^fS 


H 


2A 


mcuaiiiii  iv-> 


\s£ 


O   VI      _     k 


Mi 


^OJIIVDJO^ 


-cfcWC 


<A\« 


/. 


CltfrSk 


THE 


TRAGICAL    HISTORIE 


OF  OUR   LATE   BROTHER 

Robert,  Earl  of  Essex 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

HAMLET,  RICHARD  III,  OTHELLO, 
AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,  ETC. 

AND  OF  THE  NEWLY  DISCOVERED  TRAGEDY, 

MARY   QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 


DECIPHERED 

FROM  THE  WORKS  OF 

SIR  FRANCIS  BACON, 


BY 

ORVILLE  W.  OWEN,  M.  D. 


DETROIT,  MICH. 
HOWARD  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

LONDON 

GAY  &  BIRD,  5,  CHANDOS  6TREET. 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  ORVILLE  W.  OWEN. 


Entered  at  Stationer's  Hall, 
London. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


n 


PUBLISHERS  NOTE. 


The  present  volume,  "The  Tragical  History  of  Our  Late 
Brother,  Earl  of  Essex,"  is  published  separately,  out  of  its 
consecutive  order,  being  complete  in  itself,  and  of  the  most 
thrilling  interest  and  historical  value,  that  it  may  be  the 
earlier  enjoyed  as  one  of  the  marvels  of  literature,  in  advance 
of  its  appearance  as  a  part  of  the  later  books  of  the  series  of 
Sir  Francis  Bacon's  Cipher  Writings. 

Like  its  immediate  predecessor,  "  The  Tragedy  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,"  it  has  been  deciphered  from  the  Shakespeare 
Plays,  and  other  works  of  Bacon,  by  means  of  the  Cipher 
system,  discovered  by  Doctor  Owen,  through  which  the  hidden 
histories  are  being  brought  to  light. 

In  the  first  book  of  the  "  Cipher  Story,"  issued  in  October, 
1893,  was  the  astounding  statement  that  the  great  Chancillor 
was  the  son  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester ;  and  that  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  was  his  brother. 
Corroboration  of  this  is  found  in  the  recently  published  British 
"Dictionary  of  National  Biography,"  Vol.  16,  page  114,  under 
the  heading  "  Dudley  : — 

"  Whatever  were  the  Queen's  relations  with  Dudley  before  his  wife's 
death,  they  became,  closer  after.  It  was  reported  that  she  was  formally 
betrothed  to  him,  and  that  she  had  secretly  married  him  in  Lord  Pem- 
broke's house,  and  that  she  was  a  mother  already.'" — January,  1560-1. 

"In  1562  the  reports  that  Elizabeth  had  children  by  Dudley  were 
revived.  One  Robert  Brooks,  of  Devizes,  was  sent  to  prison  for  publish- 
ing the  slander,  and  seven  years  later  a  man  named  Marsham,  of 
Norwich,  was  punished  for  the  same  offence." 

This  Tragedy  confirms    the  statement. 

The    Comedy  referred  to   in   the   Prologue    is   now   being 

translated. 

"The  players  that  come  forth,  will  to  the  life  present 
The  pliant  men  that  we  as  masks  employ : 
An  excellent  device  to  tell  the  plot, 
And  all  our  cipher  practice  to  display." 

HOWARD  PUBLISHING  CO. 

March,  1895. 


p~  trm^ic^  r~  jQ 


INTRODUCTION. 

The  work  of  deciphering  the  literature,  in  which  the  Cipher 
of  Sir  Francis  Bacon  is  found,  reveals  details  of  English  history 
of  wonderful  interest,  which  only  a  participant  in  the  events 
could  record.  Inwrought  into  this  literature  was  hidden  the 
"  Tragedy  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,"  embracing  Mary's  attempts 
to  gain  the  English  crown,  her  trial,  and  her  tragic  end,  written 
as  a  Play.  This  was  published  in  December,  1894,  and  has  been 
pronounced  a  masterpiece.  Portions  of  it  were  found  in  every 
play  attributed  to  Shakespeare,  and  in  the  writings  of  Spenser, 
Peele,  Greene,  Marlow,  Burton,  and  Francis  Bacon.  Although 
a  remarkable  production,  it  is  believed  to  be  the  first  of  Bacon's 
writings  of  historical  drama  in  Cipher,  and  it  is  chiefly  drawn 
from  the  earlier  works  and  plays,  before  they  were  re-written  and 
enlarged  in  1608-17-23,  incorporating  later  histories,  and  mat- 
ters of  profound  philosophical  significance. 

This  "  Tragedy  of  Essex,"  obtained  from  the  same  sources, 
is  a  later  production,  and  bears  the  impress  of  greater  skill,  more 
experience,  and  far  more  intense  personal  feeling.  In  it  are 
interwoven  most  important  passages  of  Bacon's  own  life.  It 
explains  Bacon's  participation  in  the  trial  and  conviction  of 
Essex,  who  had  been  his  benefactor,  and  the  seeming  ingratitude 
which  lias  so  long  been  thought  a  blot  upon  the  fame  of  the 
Lord  High  Chancillor.  It  was  a  life  for  a  life  !  Essex  was 
foredoomed  to  death.  The  Queen  sought  excuse  in  law  for  the 
deed  ;   her  commands  were  imperative  : — 

Queen.*        *        Robert  Essex  was 
A  worthy  officer  i'  th'  wars,  but  insolent, 
O'er-come  with  pride,  ambitious  past  all  thinking, 
Self-loving,  and  affecting  one  sole  throne. 
Without  assistance. 


Francis  Bacon.  O,  I  think  not  so.         *        * 

Q.  Villain  !  I'll  set  a  point  against  thy  breast. 
If  thou  dost  not  use  most  dear  employment 
In  what  I  further  shall  intend  to  do, 
By  heaven,  I  will  tear  thee  joint  by  joint, 
And  strew  a  hungry  churchyard  with  thy  limbs : 
The  time  and  my  intents  are  savage  wild, 
More  fierce  and  more  inexorable  far, 
Than  empty  tigers,  or  the  roaring  sea. 
Put  not  another  sin  upon  my  head, 
By  urging  me  to  fury.     O,  begone  !        *        * 

F.  B.  To  revenge  is  no  valor,  but  to  bear.        *        * 
To  be  in  anger,  is  impiety. 

Q.  But  who  is  born  that  is  not  angry? 
Weigh  but  the  crime  with  this. 

Blood  hath  bought  blood,  and  blows  have  answer'd  blows ; 
Strength  match'd  with  strength,  and  power  confronted  power 
Both  are  alike,  and  both  alike  we  like: 
One  must  prove  greatest. 

F.  B.  Believe  this,  Madam, 
No  ceremony  that  to  great  ones  'longs, 
Not  the  King's  crown,  nor  the  deputed  sword, 
The  marshal's  truncheon,  nor  the  judge's  robe, 
Becomes  them  with  one  half  so  good  a  grace 
As  mercy  does.        *        * 

Q.  I  was  not  born  to  die  on  Essex'  sword ! 
*         *        In  the  name  o'  th'  people, 
And  in  the  power  of  us  their  Queen,  we 
Will  push  destruction  and  perpetual  shame 
Out  of  the  weak  door  of  our  fainting  land. 
See,  here  in  bloody  lines  we  have  set  down 
And  what  is  written  shall  be  executed ; 
Your  brother  is  to  die,  as  his  offences 
Are  accounted  to  the  law. 

F.  B.  0  your  Grace, 
Are  not  you  then  as  cruel  as  the  sentence? 
I  know  no  law,  Madam,  that  answering 
One  foul  wrong,  lives  but  to  act  another. 

Q.  Be  satisfied  ; 
Your  treacherous  brother  dies  ;  be  content. 

F.  B.  Oh,  it  is  excellent,  your  Majesty, 
To  have  a  giant's  strength :    but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  like  a  giant. 

Q.  Peace,  peace  sir,  peace. 
Were  I  not  the  better  part  made  of  mercy, 
I  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  present,  thou  traitor. 
*         *  Look  to  it,  thou  villain, 

Thy  life's  dependent  on  thy  brother's  death. 
Let  our  instruction  to  thee  be  thy  guide, 
Under  penalty  of  thine  own  false  head. 

F.  B.  I  do  partly  understand  your  meaning. 

Q.  Why  then,  go  get  thee  home,  thou  fragment  vile. 
Peruse  this  writing  here,  and  thou  shalt  know 
'Tis  death  for  death,  a  brother  for  a  brother: 
Haste  still  pays  haste,  and  leisure  answers  leisure ; 
Like  doth  quit  like,  and  measure  still  for  measure. 


The  Prologue. 

Scattered  through  the  Shakespeare  Plays  are  some  of  the 
most  beautiful  thoughts  and  poetic  conceptions,  which  have 
become  familiar  household  words.  But  they  are  fragmentary, 
and  interpolated  with,  and  surrounded  by,  irrelevant  and  incon- 
gruous matters,  neither  suggesting  them,  or  by  them  suggested.. 
The  appearance  of  a  ghost  in  Hamlet  is  inconsistent  with 

The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  borne 
No  traveller  returns. 

The  Cipher  gathers  these  fragments  together  in  proper  sequence,. 
in  the  Prologue  to  this  Tragedy  of  Essex,  where  they  take  the 
form  of  a  soliloquy,  embodying  the  deepest  philosophy  concern- 
ing things  natural  and  spiritual,  temporal  and  eternal.  It  is  a 
retrospect,  and  a  wail  of  remorse,  as  well  as  a  speculation  as  to 
the  future  state.  This  wonderful  Prologue  can  only  be  measured 
from  the  point  of  view  of  its  author,  Francis  Bacon.  Lost  in 
reminiscence  and  contemplation,  he  weighs  that  destiny  which 
has  been  beyond  his  control, 

Which  hath  the  primal  curse  upon  it,  a  brother's  murder. 

To  the  Seven  Ages  of  Man,  so  well  known  as  an  epitome  of 
human  life,  the  Cipher  adds  another,  which  rounds  out  and  fin- 
ishes the  story  with  the  "  exit,"  from  human  view,  of  all  that  is 
mortal. 

Last  scene  of  all 

That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 

The  old  man  dies ;  and  on  the  shoulders  of  his  brethren 

To  the  heavy  knolled  bells  is  borne, 

Tn  love  and  sacred  pity,  through  the  gates 

Of  the  holy  edifice  of  stone,  where  all  in  white 

The  goodly  vicar  meets  them  and  doth  say: — 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  ;" 

And  then  doth  mount  the  pulpit  stairs  and  doth  begin: — 

"0  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  wretched  sinners!" 

The  people  answering  cry  as  with  one  voice: — 

•'  O  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  wretched  sinners!" 

Then  through  the  narrow  winding  church-way  paths, 

With  weary  task  foredone,  under  the  shade 

Of  melancholy  boughs,  gently  set  down 

Their  venerable  burden,  and  from  the  presence 

Of  the  sun  they  lower  him  into  the  tomb, 

To  sleep,  perchance  to  dream  ;  aye,  there's  th'  rub, 

For  in  that  sleep  of  death,  what  dreams  may  come, 

"When  we  have  shufn'd  off  this  mortal  coil, 


Must  give  us  pause.     To  die,  to  sleep,  to  dream 
No  more  ;  and  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 
The  heart-ache,  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  heir  to,  is  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     For  in  our  graves, 
After  life's  fitful  fever,  one  sleeps  well. 

********* 

But  for  our  conscience  then,  we'ld  rear  our  hand 

And  play  the  Koman  fool  and  die  on  our  own  sword : 

We,  with  three  inches  of  this  obedient  steel, 

No  better  than  the  earth  ourselves  could  make. 

O  what  a  sleep  were  this,  if  'twere  perpetual ! 

But  there's  a  prohibition  so  divine 

Against  self-slaughter,  in  the  Holy  Scripture, 

It  cravens  our  weak  hand  and  doth  return 

The  SAvord  obedient  to  the  scabbard. 

The  decipherer  can  understand  perhaps  better  than  another, 
the  feeling  that  the  translated  text  lacks  some  of  the  qualities 
called  Shakespearean.  The  Plays  are  full  of  ambiguous  incon- 
gruities and  obscure  allusions  that  have  the  charm  of  mystery, 
and  excite  wonder  at  the  genius,  that  from  such  distant  and 
widely  scattered  sources  could  draw  its  inspiration.  The 
commentators  have  failed  to  explain  them.  When,  however 
these  expressions  are  segregated,  and  rounded  out  by  the 
additions  which  the  Cipher  brings  from  the  other  works,  they 
become  smooth,  reasonable,  and  historically  accurate,  and  the 
great  thoughts  of  that  great  constructive  genius,  the  author 
of  them  all,  are  presented  in  their  primal  form. 

ORVILLE  W.  OWEN. 

Detroit,  February,  1895. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONJE. 


Queen  Elizabeth, 

Earl  of  Essex, 

Francis  Bacon, 

Secretary  Cecil, 

Chief  Justice, 

Lord  Chamberlain, 

Lord  High  Admiral, 

Lord  Keeper, 

Comptroller, 

Earl  of  Worcester, 

Earl  of  Lincoln, 

Earl  of  Southampton, 

Earl  of  Rutland, 

Gray, 

Pembroke, 

Derby, 

Oxford, 

Blount, 

Raleigh, 

Court  ladies,  judges,  peers, 


Bishop  of  Winchester, 
Lords  and  Gentlemen, 

Huntsman, 

Forester, 

Falconer, 

First  Jailor, 

Second  Jailor, 

Porter, 

Messenger, 

Page, 

Captain, 

Guard, 

Soldiers. 

Lady  Essex  and  Child, 
First  Lady, 
Second  Lady, 
Maid, 

lawyers,  citizens,  servants,  etc. 


afye  Cragtcal  f?tstorte  of  our  Hate 
23rott}er,  (Earl  of  €ssex. 


[Prologue.] 
Sir: — 

This  wide  and  universal  theatre,  the  world, 
Presents  more  woeful    pageants  than  the  scene 
Wherein  we  play  the  orator.     When  we  are  born, 
We  cry  that  we  are  come  to  this  great  stage 
Of  fools,  and  do  beguile  ourselves  with  antique  fage 
Like  to  comedians :    for  all  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players; 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  being  eight  ages.     At  first  the  infant, 
Mewling,  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms, 
Then,  the  whining  school-boy  with  his  satchel 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woeful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eye-brow.     Then,  a  soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard, 
Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 

Even  in  the  cannon's  mouth.     And  then,  the  justice, 
In  fair  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lin'd, 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws,  and  modern  instances, 
And  so  he  plays  his  part.     The  sixt  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon, 


2                                 The   Tragical  History  of 
. 


With  spectacles  on  nose,  and  pouch  on  side, 

His  youthful  hose  well  sav'd,  a  world  too  wide 

For  his  shrunk  shanke,  and  his  big  manly  voice, 

Turning  again  towards  childish  treble,  pipes 

And  whistles  in  his  sound.     The  scene  doth  change 

To  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion, 

Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  everything. 

Last  scene  of  all 

That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 

The  old  man  dies ;  and  on  the  shoulders  of  his  brethren 

To  the  heavy  knolled  bells  is  borne, 

In  love  and  sacred  pity,  through  the  gates 

Of  the  holy  edifice  of  stone,  where  all  in  white 

The  goodly  vicar  meets  them  and  doth  say : — 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life ; " 

And  then  doth  mount  the  pulpit  stairs  and  doth  begin  :— 

"  O  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  wretched  sinners ! " 

The  people  answering  cry  as  with  one  voice : — 

"  O  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  wretched  sinners ! " 

Then  through  the  narrow  winding  church-way  paths, 

With  weary  task  foredone,  under  the  shade 

Of  melancholy  boughs,  gently  set  down 

Their  venerable  burden,  and  from  the  presence 

Of  the  sun  they  lower  him  into  the  tomb, 

To  sleep,  perchance,  to  dream ;  aye,  there's  th'  rub, 

For  in  that  sleep  of  death,  what  dreams  may  come, 

When  we  have  shuffl'd  off  this  mortal  coil, 

Musi  uive  us  pause.     To  die,  to  sleep,  to  dream 

No  moro;  and  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 

The  heart-ache,  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 

That  flesh  is  heir  to,  is  a  consummation 

Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     For  in  our  graves, 


1     '  J 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex. 


After  life's  fitful  fever,  one  sleeps  well.       /A ' 
Aye  better  to  be  with  the  dead,  whom  we  our  peace 
To  gain  have  sent  to  peace,  than  eat  our  meals  in  fear 
And  sleep  in  the  affliction  of  terrible  dreams 
That  shake  us  nightly.     O  the  torture  of  the  mind 
That  doth  lie  in  restless  extasie,  the  subject 
Of  its  watch,  dread  murder  and  doleful  death ! 
Blood  hath  been  shed  ere  now,  i'  th1  olden  time 
Ere  human  statute  purg'd  the  general  weal : 
Aye,  and  since  too,  murders  have  been  perform'd 
Too  terrible  for  the  ear.     The  time  has  been,  yi^€*   ■')!! 

That  when  the  brains  were  out  the  man  would  die, 
And  there  an  end :     But  now  they  rise  again 
With  twenty  mortal  murders  at  their  crowns, 
And  push  us  from  our  stools.     Then  as  present  fears 
Are  less  than  horrible  imaginings, 
To  die,  to  sleep,  to  dream,  to  wake  no  more, 
And  tenderly  to  lie  deep  in  our  graves 
Under  the  prettiest  daisied-plot  that  our  good  friends 
Can  find,  may  drive  us  yet  to  render  up 
This  hopeless  life,  which  drawn  on  with  torture, 
We  have  liv'd  from  day  to  day,  through  fear 
That  the  straight  narrow  path  to  death,  was  damn'd. 
i  To  be,  or  not  to  be,  then,  that's  the  question :  ^ 

Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune, 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them.     There's  the  respect 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life ; 

For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time,  fr' 

The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  poor  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  dispris'd  love,  the  law's  delay, 


The   Tragical  History  of 


The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 

That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes, 

When  he  himself  might  his  quietus  make 

With  a  bare  bodkin  ?     Who  would  these  fardles  bear, 

To  grunt  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life, 

But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death, 

The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourn 

No  traveller  returns,  puzzles  the  will, 

And  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  have, 

Then  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of? 

Thus  conscience  doth  make  cowards  of  us  all, 

And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 

Is  sicklied  o'er,  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought, 

And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment, 

With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  away, 

And  lose  the  name  of  action. 

But  for  our  conscience  then,  we'ld  rear  our  hand 

And  play  the  Roman  fool  and  die  on  our  own  sword : 

We,  with  three  inches  of  this  obedient  steel, 

No  better  than  the  earth  ourselves  could  make. 

O  what  a  sleep  were  this,  if  'twere  jysrpetual ! 

But  there's  a  prohibition  so  divine 

Against  self-slaughter,  in  the  Holy  Scripture, 

It  cravens  our  weak  hand  and  doth  return 

The  sword  obedient  to  the  scabbard. 

For  to  be  clapp'd  in  hell,  with  strange  and  several  noises 

Of  roaring,  shrieking,  howling,  jingling  chains, 

And  more  diversity  of  sounds  all  horrible, 

Makes  us  irresolute :     why  do  we  yield 

To  this  suggestion,  whose  so  horrid  image 

Doth  unfix  our  hair,  and  make  our  seated  heart 

Knock  at  our  ribs  against  the  use  of  nature? 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  5 


Because,  O  my  dear  lord,  our  offense  is  rank : 

It  smells  to  heaven :    it  hath  the  primal  curse  upon  't, 

A  brother's  murder.   \  And  sir,  to  our  grief, 

Though  our  compell'd  sins  stand  more  for  number 

Than  accompt,  we  look  upon  him  nightly ; 

But  in  this  Cipher  we  will  free  ourselves. 

Here  can  we  smile,  and  murder  while  we  smile, 

And  wet  our  cheeks  with  artificial  tears, 

And  frame  our  face  to  all  occasions. 

We'll  drown  more  sailors  than  the  mermaids  shall, 

We'll  slay  more  gazers  than  the  Basilisk, 

We'll  play  the  orator  as  well  as  Nestor, 

Deceive  more  slyly  than  Ulysses  could, 

And  like  a  Synon  take  another  Troy ; 

We  will  add  colours  to  the  cameleon, 

Change  shapes  with  Proteus  for  advantages, 

And  set  murtherous  Machievill  to  school. 

Pronouncing  still,  like  players  on  the  stage, 

We  will  unmask  as  strange  abuse  in  this, 

As  ever  offer'd  foul  play  in  a  state. 

Our  song  hath  not  been  play'd  on  ivory  harp 

With  silver  string,  thy  senses  to  allure, 

But  noble  verse  and  tragic  scene,  and  act, 

We  have  employed  here.     Thus  we  recount 

Our  famous  tale  in  sobbing  notes  and  sighs, 

And  with  bubbling  tears  and  much  ado 

Rehearse  these  tragedies. 

M 
And  when  our  younger  brother's  play  is  done, 

We'll  play  a  comedy,  my  lord,  wherein 

The  players  that  come  forth,  will  to  the  life  present 

The  pliant  men  that  we  as  masks  employ: 

An  excellent  device  to  tell  the  plot, 


6  The   Tragical  History  of 

And  all  our  cipher  practice  to  display. 

A  dire  induction  this  to  us  would  prove, 

If  the  good  truth  were  known,  that  thus  we  mask 

Our  younger  brother's  noble  life  and  death ; 

And  how  that  bitter,  black  and  wicked  wretch, 

With  mortal  hatred  and  aspiring  mind, 

By  secret  treason  robb'd  him  of  his  life. 

If  it  should  hap  at  time  unseasonable, 

This  ancient  tale  should  be  again  new  told, 

Then  would  we  be  undone.     Thou  swor'st  once, 

That  whiles  the  warm  life  played  in  these  veins, 

Thou  would'st  not  speak.     With  admonition  double,  treble, 

We  pray  thee  swear  continuance  awhile, 

Else  verily  we  shall  be  hang'd  for  it ; 

And  on  the  scaffold  as  a  stage,  my  lord, 

Extempore  we'd  have  a  tragic  play, 

Where  the  chief  actor's  part  we  would  present. 

Should  we  such  prologue  to  a  tragic  scene  rehearse, 

The  very  torrent,  tempest  and  whirlwind 

Of  our  discordant  passion,  would  move  storms 

Of  tears  in  the  great  wav'ring  multitude. 

'  Twould  a  good  play  to  our  spectators  prove. 

For  we  would  drown  the  stage  with  sighs  and  tears, 

And  cleave  the  gener'l  ear  with  horrid  speech , 

Make  mad  the  guilty  and  appall  the  free; 

Confound  the  ignorant,  and  amaze  indeed 

The  very  faculty  of  eyes  and  ears. 

Yet  God  in  heaven  make  thee  free  of  it, 

When  we  are  clad  with  immortality, 

For  thou  shall  reap  an  honour  sevenfold, 

And  deck  with  shining  stars  and  novel  lamps 

The  flaming  heaven  huge.     The  Curtain's  drawn.     Beein. 


£Lf]c  (Tragical  historic  of  our  Hate 
Brother,  (Earl  of  <Zssex. 


IN    FIVE    ACTS. 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 


Horns  wind  and  Trumpets   sound.    Enter  Queen  Elizabeth 

bearing  her  huntspear  bravely  in    her    hand,  with  her 

hounds,  greyhounds,   and  dogs.     The   Huntsman, 

Forester,  Falconer,  and  Court  in  presence. 


Queen  Elizabeth.    Huntsman,  I  charge  thee,  tender 
well  my  hounds; 
Brach  Merriman,  the  poor  cur  is  imbost; 
And  couple  Clowder  with  the  deep-mouth'd  Brach. 
Saw't  thou  not  how  Silver  made  it  good 
At  the  hedge  corner,  in  the  coldest  fault? 

* 

I  would  not  lose  the  dog  for  twenty  pound. 

Huntsman.  Why,  Belman  is  as  good,  my  Queen ; 
He  cried  upon  it  at  the  merest  loss, 
And  twice  to-day  pick'd  out  the  dullest  scent ; 
Trust  me,  I  take  him  for  the  better  dog. 

Q.  Thou  art  a  fool !    if  Echo  were  as  fleet, 
I  would  esteem  him  worth  a  dozen  such; 
But  sup  them  well  and  look  unto  them  all ; 
To-morrow  I  intend  to  hunt  again. 

Hunt.  I  will  your  majesty. 

Q.  I  love  to  hear  the  music  of  my  hounds, 
Uncoupled  in  the  western  valley  deep ; 

(7) 


8  The   Tragical  History  of 

Or  up  on  th'  mountain's  top  mark  th'  musical 

Confusion  of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction: 

Never  did  I  hear  such  gallant  chiding 

As  when  in  a  wood  to-day,  they  bayed  the  bear; 

For  besides  the  groves,  the  skies,  the  fountains, 

Ev'ry  region  near  seem'd  all  one  mutual  cry. 

I  never  heard  so  musical  a  discord, 

Such  sweet  thunder  as  the  hounds  performed. 

My  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 

So  slew'd,  so  sanded,  and  their  heads  are  hung 

With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew ; 

Crook-kneed  and  dew-lapt,  like  Thessalian  bulls, 

Slow  in  pursuit,  but  match'd  in  mouth  like  bells,, 

Each  under  each ;  a  cry  more  tunable 

Was  never  hallowed  to,  nor  cheered  with  horns. 

But  I  am  weary ;  give  me  leave  awhile : 

Girl,  reach  me  a  chair, — so,  now  a  footstool : 

Fie,  my  bones  ache!    what  a  jaunt  have  I  had  ! 

I  am  so  out  of  breath ;  I  would'st  thou  had'st  my  bones ; 

I  am  dead,  alack!    yet  now  girl,  methinks 

I  feel  a  little  ease.     Here  puppy,  here ; 

It  goes  hard  when  a  servant  plays  the  cur 

With  one;  look  thou,  puppy,  I  brought  thee  up, 

Sav'd  thee  from  fearful  death  by  drowning, 

When  three  or  four  of  thy  blind  brothers  and  sisters 

Went  to  it.     I  have  taught  thee  precisely, 

Yet  thou  hadst  no  more  wit  than  to  take  fault; 

0  'tis  a  foul  Ihiug  when  a  cur  cannot  keep  scent : 
But  to  dally  thus  with  thee  is  not  a  fit  toy; 

Go  find  ^ome  other  playfellow;  greedy  pleasures 
Thou  thinkesf  more  upon  than  good  labour; 

1  am  aweary  of  thee.     In  the  brook 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex. 


Thou  fool,  I'll  have  thee  drown'd.     But  who  comes  here  ? 

Page.  Your  majesty,  here  comes  {Enter  Page.) 

The  noble  Earl  of  Essex  and  of  Ewe, 
And  good  Master  Francis  Bacon  with  him. 

Q.  0  ominous !    they  come  to  kill  my  hart. 

(Enter  Essex  and  Bacon.) 
How  now,  my  Lord  of  Essex;  thou  haunt'st  me; 
One  hour,  one  minute,  one  quiet  breath  of  rest 
Thou  dost  not  let  me  have.     Every  one  knows 
I  am  as  tormented  by  thee,  my  lord, 
And  Master  Bacon  there  behind  thee,  sir, 
As  thou  wert  two  of  Friar  Bacon's  devils. 
Leave  me  good  gentlemen  ;  ladies  farewell.     [Exit  train.') 
Now,  good  my  lord,  what  news? 

Earl  of  Essex.  Your  majesty,  this  is  the  news  at  full; 
I  am  advised  that  through  treachery, 
All  your  northern  Irish  castles  are  yielded  up 
Unto  the  rebel  earl ;  and  upon  his  faction, 
In  arms  are  all  your  sothern  gentlemen. 
I  play  the  torturer  by  small,  and  small, 
To  lengthen  out  the  worst  that  must  be  spoken. 

Q.  Beshrew  thee!  thou  hast  said  enough,  my  lord; 
That  villain  Irish  earl,  I'll  be  his  death! 
He,  like  Actaeon  peeping  through  the  grove. 
Shall  by  the  angry  goddess  be  transform'd, 
And  running  in  the  likeness  of  an  hart, 
By  yelping  hounds  pull'd  down  and  seen  to  die: 
I  will  hunt  this  cursed  solitary, 
And  make  the  sword  and  target,  my  fell  hounds 
To  pull  down  this  untamed  Irish  beast. 
Cold  and  rheumatic  is  the  evening  air 
So  for  to-night,  my  lord,  leave  me.     Farewell.     (Exeunt.) 


10  The   Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Secunda. 


(Room  in  the  Palace.) 
Enter  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 


Queen.  Lord  Chamberlain,  hath  the  Lord  Admiral 
Come  yet? 

LorcT  Chamberlain.  Nay,  an't  please  your  majesty. 

Q.  I  bade  him  come  at  twelve ;  I  pray  thee  sir, 
How  goes  the  time  ?     I  have  not  heard  the  clock ; 
I  tak't  'tis  later  ? 

L.  C.  Nay,  and't  please  your  majesty. 

Q.  What  sir,  not  yet  twelve  ?     God  grant  us  patience ; 
May  God  confound  such  times  that  drum  us  from  our  sport : 
(Enter  Essex,  Admiral  and  Secretary  Cecil.) 
Ha !  who  knocks  ?     Welcome,  my  Lord  of  Essex ; 
AVelcome,  Master  Secretary  Cecil ; 
Welcome  my  lords  to  you  all :    Chamberlain, 
Give  leave  awhile,  we  must  talk  in  secret. 

( Exit  Ch  amber  lain. ) 
Lord  Earl,  that  great  Alcides  of  Ireland, 
Earl  Patrick  of  Tyrone,  the  thrice  villain, 
Hath  by  a  stratagem  most  delicate, 
Cruelly  slain  our  soldiers.     The  forces 
That  marched  forth  against  him,  were  by  him 
Compelled  to  give  battle  unawares: 
We  had  the  worst  :     of  thirty  thousand  men 
There  scap'd  not  full  five  thousand  from  the  field, 
And  these  with  ;ill  celerity  were  pursued 
Into  Cork,  whose  Lord  Mayor  craves  us  aid 
To  defend  the  city  from  the  rebels. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  11 

Under  the  command  of  our  good  kinsman, 
Sir  William,  who  is  a  valiant  captain, 
We  have  concluded  at  once  to  transport, 
With  all  speed  possible  unto  Ireland, 
Our  forces.     He  should  well  enough  be  able, 
With  expert  soldiers  twenty  thousand  strong, 
To  scatter,  as  a  flight  of  birds,  the  wild, 
Untamed  Irish  Kernes,  and  likewise  to 
Rattle  fast  away  that  great  swarm  of  bees. 

Es.  Will  your  grace  send  this  fellow  to  Ireland 
As  governor?     You  know,  in  reversion, 
'  Twas  promised  to  Master  George  Carew ; 
Aye,  and  besides,  indeed  your  royal  grace, 
If  that  you  would  shake  off  the  slavish  yoke, 
Imp  out  your  country's  broken  Irish  wing, 
Redeem  from  breaking  pawn  the  blemish'd  crown, 
That  the  Cecils,  father  and  son,  have  pawn'd, 
Wipe  off  the  dust  that  hides  your  sceptre's  gilt, 
And  make  high  majesty  look  like  itself. 

Sec.  Cecil.  My  lord,  your  honor  knows  my  great  father 
Hath  no  store  of  gold ;  then  be  certain,  sir, 
Of  what  you  do  say  here,  least  injustice 
Prove  violence,  in  the  which  three  great  ones  suffer; 
The  Queen,  yourself,  and  my  noble  father. 

Es.  Thy  father  hath  the  English  realm  in  farm ; 
The  Queen's  grown  bankrupt  like  a  broken  man, 
Reproach  and  dissolution  hangeth  over  her, 
For  Burleigh,  like  a  sponge,  doth  drain  her  dry. 
I  hope  I  shall,  sir,  do  nobody  wrong 
To  speak  what  I  do  truly  think  of  thee. 
Deserve  I  blame  for  my  mind  imparting 
Unto  her  majesty?     Is  it  not  true 


12  The  Tragical  History  of 


Thy  great-great-great-grandfather  was  a  Jew, 

And  in  all  likelihood,  a  usurer? 

Art  thou  not  his  son's  son's  son,  thou  deformed  dog  ? 

Sec.  Thou  call'st  me  a  dog  before  thou  hast  a  cause, 
But  since  I  am  a  dog,  beware  my  phangs ! 
Thou  art  no  friend  to  God,  or  to  the  Queen. 

Es.  Hold  thy  peace ! 
Thy  father  hath  not  money  for  these  Irish  wars 
(  His  burthenous  taxations  notwithstanding) 
But  by  robbing  of  the  Queen's  majesty. 

Q.  My  lord, 
We  may  not,  nor  we  will  not  suffer  this — 

Es.  This  torment  to  the  crown,  this  crafty  knave  is 
sick — 

Q.  I  think  his  understanding  is  bereft ! 
My  lord  Earl,  dost  thou  know  who  speaks  to  thee? 

Es.  Now  put  it,  heaven,  in  his  physician's  mind, 
To  help  him  to  his  grave  immediately: 
The  lining  of  his  coffers  shall  make  coats 
To  deck  our  soldiers  for  these  Irish  wars. 

Q.  Thou  fool!    dost  thou  hear,  thou  saucy  lackey? 
Ha !  under  this  habit  play'st  thou  the  knave  with  me  ? 
Thou  would'st  play  a  king's  part,  would'st  thou,  thou  fool? 
Thou  speakest  like  an  asse  and  actest  like  a  clown. 
Take  thou  that ! —  {Gives  him  a  box  on  the  ear.) 

Es.  Gods  me ! 
Am  I  nothing  but  the  composition 
Of  a  knave,  beggar,  coward,  fool,  pander, 
And  the  son  and  heir  of  a  mungrell  bitch, 
That  in  public  thus  thou  strik'st  me,  madam? 
Though  I  lose  my  head  by  telling  thee,  know 
Tliv  dead  father  durst  not,  without  warrant 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  lo 

Thus  have  struck  me !     For  this  box  of  the  ear, 
Iiude  princess,  I  will  dearly  requite  thee. 
God-a-mercy ! 

Vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  death  in  my  hand, 
Blood  and  revenge  are  hammering  in  my  brain 
To  do  some  fatal  execution,  Queen,  on  thee. 

Q.  Thou  ill  advised  man,  peace,  thou  knave,  peace ! 

Es.  Thou  mayest  be  a  queen  that  checks  the  world, 
But  trust  me,  Queen,  I  fear  thee  not  a  whit ! 
My  evil  nature  thou  hast  now  awak'd. 

(Essays  to  draw  his  sword.) 

Lord  Admiral.    Stay,  my  lord  earl,   stay !  lay  down 
your  weapon ! 
Mark  you,  'tis  expressly  against  the  law 
To  thus  lay  violent  hands  upon  your  sword. 

Es.  Shall  I  endure  villainy?    despiteful, 
Intolerable  wrongs  ?    may  this  be  borne  ? 
Nor  hair,  nor  age,  nor  sex,  nor  honour  shall 
Shape  unto  privilege  this  deadly  mock ! 
Away  I  say! 

Q.  My  Lord  High  Admiral, 
Stand  thou  back;  let  me  talk  to  him  one  word. 
I  will  slay  thee  unless  thou  do  submit ! 
Thou  fool !  break  off  thy  speech,  thou  insolent ! 
More  than  my  hand  I  will  give  unto  thee : 
Sirrah,  I'll  let  thee  understand  I  yet  am  Queen. 

Es.  I  do  defy  thee  ! 

Q.  Call  in  our  soldiers. 

L.  Ad.  Pray  heaven,  Lord  Robert,  away,  away ! 

Es.  I  will  go  when  I  please.     Tush !  I  tell  you 
I  fear  not  this  termagant  king  in  petticoats ! 

Q.  What!  darest  thou  look  a  lion  in  the  face? 


14  The   Tragical  History  of 

My  lord  avoid,  or  by  my  soul,  I  vow 
I  will  have  thee  whipped  to  very  rags : 
To  tatters  will  I  tear  thee  :     yea,  I  will 
Whip  thee,  till  like  a  boy,  thou  cringe  and  whine 
Aloud  for  mercy.  (All  in  a  chafe,  cursing  and  swear- 

ing, the  earl  breaks  away.) 
Alas,  poor  boy,  so  dry  he  is  for  sway 
That  he  pursues  my  life  with  deadly  hate. 
Yet  do  I  not  despair  of  my  young  lion ! 
How  bravely  did  he  brave  me  in  my  seat! 
Methought  he  bore  him  here  as  doth  a  lion 
In  a  wild  herd  of  neat,  or  as  a  bear 
Encompass'd  round  with  dogs,  who  having  pinch'd 
A  few  and  made  them  cry,  the  rest  stand  all  aloof 
And  bark  at  him.     Soft,  sirs,  comes  he  not  back  ? 

Sec.  He  hath  gone,  my  Queen. 

Q.  Follow  thou  the  earl,  my  lord !     I  pray  thee 
Go  seek  him,  I  would  speak  unto  him  here. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Tertia. 


Cecil,  Solus. 


Cecil.  'I  beseech  you  follow  him,  my  good  lord:' 
I'll  not  budge  an  inch  ;  let  him  come  to  me, 
This  grave  adviser  of  the  common  weal, 
This  prudent  counsellor  unto  the  Queen, 
Whose  wit  is  busied  with  his  mistress'  heart, 
This  thrice-  honourable  Earl  of  Essex! 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  15 

Ha !  must  I  do  reverence  unto  him, 
And  bear  disgrace  with  patience  ?     I  do  bear 
Such  mortal  love  unto  his  great  goodness, 
That  out  of  holy  pity,  he  shall  be 
Absolved  with  an  axe.     Soft,  here  he  comes ! 

(Miter  Essex.) 
Lord  Earl,  pardon  this  my  interruption ; 
I,  by  attorney,  greet  thee  from  the  Queen. 
The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience, 
So  much  they  love  it,  but  to  stubborn  spirits, 
They  swell  and  grow  as  terrible  as  storms. 
She  says  thou  speak'st  brave  words,  swear'st  brave  oaths, 
And  break'st  them  bravely,  quite  traverse  athwart 
Her  heart,  like  as  a  young  puny  filter, 
Who  strongly  spurs  his  horse  but  on  one  side, 
And  breaks  his  staff  like  to  a  noble  goose, 
And  art  so  choleric  and  so  testy 
That  no  man  may  speak  with  thee,  and  therefore, 
Thou  must  from  the  court,  take  a  short  farewell. 

Es.  Well  sir,  least  being  missed,  here  is  a  box ; 
I  had  it  from  the  Queen ;  it  is  precious, 
And  I  pray  you  carry  it  unto  her, 
And  wear  it  in  your  black,  false  heart,  for  'tis 
A  joint  burden  laid,  sir,  upon  us  both ; 
Take  it  along  with  you!  (Strikes  him.) 

Ce.  By  heaven,  my  lord,  thy  tears  shall  wash  away 
This  cold,  congealed  blood  that  glues  my  lips, 
And  will  not  let  me  speak. 

Es.  Oh,  I  thank  thee  for  so  good  counsel,  sir ! 
But  were  the  sum  of  these  that  I  should  pay, 
Countless  and  infinite,  yet  would  I  pay  them  all 
To  make  this  tender  on  thy  wicked  lips. 


16  The  Tragical  History  of 


But  learn  of  us  that  thou,  for  punishment, 
Shalt  melt  in  showers  and  sorrowful  drops ; 
A  tear  for  tear,  and  loving  kiss  for  kiss, 
Thou  shalt  receive  from  me.     Now  run  away, 
And  wash  thy  blood-stain'd  face. 

{Exit  Essex.) 
Ce.  I'll  make  this  cruelty  known  unto  the  Queen. 

( Exeunt.  I 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Quarta. 


(Room  in  the  Palace.) 
Queen  and  Cecil. 


Queen.  What  means  the  scorn  of  this  untoward  knave  ? 
Had  he  none  else  to  make  a  stale  but  me? 
Then  none  but  1  shall  turn  his  jest  to  sorrow: 
I  am  the  one  that  rais'd  him  to  his  stale, 
And  I'll  be  chief  to  bring  him  down  again. 
Pray  you  begone,  away! 

{Exit  Cecil.) 
Pity  me  Clod : 
My  thoughts  are  humbled  unto  Thy  great  will. 

0  heaven!    of  life  I  am  aweary: 

1  that  never  weep,  now  melt  with  woe, 
That  my  ungracious  son  doth  hate  me  so. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  17 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Quinta. 


(Room  in  Essex  House.) 
Enter  my  Lord  Essex  and  his   Wife.. 


Lady  Essex.  My  lord,  all  men's  eyes  are  upon  you 
now  : 
Your  rash  and  sudden  choler  at  the  Queen 
At  the  very  instant  this  conspiracy 
Is  working,  was  foolish  :    it  was  fatal 
To  break  forth  and  pick  a  quarrel,  first 
With  Cynthia,  and  then  with  Tambourlaine. 

Essex.  Go  on,  go  on!  thou  canst  not  speak  too  much: 
I  have  deserv'd  all  tongues  to  talk  their  bitterest. 
Alas !  I  have  shew'd  too  much  the  rashness 
Of  a  woman. 

L.  Es.  And  thou  wert  best  look  to  't : 
For  if  thou  dost  him  any  slight  disgrace, 
Or  if  he  do  not  mightily  on  thee 
Grace  himself,  he  will  practice  against  thee 
By  poison,  and  trap  thee  by  some  treacherous 
Device,  and  will  never  leave  thee,  my  lord, 
'  Till  by  some  indirect  means  or  other, 
He  hath  ta'en  thy  life. 

Es.  Aye,  'tis  so,  indeed. 
Yet  by  my  father's  badge,  old  Nevil's  crest, 
(The  rampant  bear  chain'd  to  tha  ragged  staff) 
I'll  astonish  all  these  fell,  lurking  curs, 
With  the  very  shaking  of  my  chains ; 
As  on  a  mountain  top  the  cedar  shows, 
That  keeps  his  leaves  in  spite  of  any  storm, 


18  The   Tragical  History  of 


Til  hold  my  head  aloft,  and  even  thus 
I'll  quell  the  rebel  and  his  'complices. 

L.  Es.  Dear  lord,  with  patience  hear  me. 

Es.  Talk  thy  tongue  weary :    love's  counsellor 
Should  fill  the  bores  of  hearing  to  th'  smothering 
Of  the  sense.    Therefore  speak,  love ;   thou  would'st  say  ? — 

L.  Es.  I  do  not  know,  my  lord,  what  I  would  say ; 
Yet  were  it  not  better  to  die  with  mocks, 
Than  in  a  ditch  to  have  thy  head  struck  off? 
O  did'st  thou  never  hear  that  things  ill  got 
Had  ever  bad  success  ? 

Es.  Full  well  hast  thou  played  the  orator, 
Inferring  arguments  of  mighty  force ; 
Meantime,  I'll  send  for  my  brother,  Bacon, 
And  'till  he  comes,  I'll  leave  unquestioned 
Matters  of  needful  value  ;   so  farewell.  {Exeunt.) 


Actus  Primus.     Scena  Sexta. 


Room  in  Essex  House. 
Enter  Francis  Bacon  and  the  Earl  of  Essex. 


Francis  Bacon.    Brother,  to  fall  from  heaven  unto 
hell, 
To  be  cubbed  up  upon  a  sudden, 
Will  kill  you.     How  perplexed  will  you  be. 
Remember,  Robert  Duke  of  Normandy, 
Imprisoned,  pined  away  with  grief. 
That  generous  captain,  great  Jugurtha, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  19 

When  brought  to  Rome  and  there  imprisoned, 

Through  anguish  of  his  soul,  of  melancholy  died. 

What  then,  my  brother,  shall  become  of  you 

If  you  shall  chance  in  this  to  catch  a  fall  ? 

It  is  my  duty  thus  to  counsel  you  : 

When  I  was  sick  you  gave  me  bitter  pills, 

And  I  must  minister  the  like  to  you. 

Where  is  your  army,  sir;  from  whence  comes  it? 

O  tell  me,  then,  tell  me  how  you  do  hope 

To  battle  with  the  Queen,  and  play  the  thief 

With  England's  golden  crown? 

Essex.  '  Tis  unworthy  to  brag  what  I  have  done, 
Or  what  will  do,  to  line  this  enterprise, 
But  you  shall  know  this  strong  right  hand  of  mine 
Can  pluck  the  diadem  from  her  faint  hand, 
And  wring  the  awful  scepter  from  her  fist, 
Were  she  as  famous  and  as  bold  in  war, 
As  she  is  fam'd  for  misbegotten  rage. 
Where  is  your  ancient  courage  ?     You  were  us'd 
To  say  extremitie  was  the  trier  of  spirits ; 
That  common  chances,  common  men  could  bear : 
But  now,  my  brother,  unto  me  you  read 
Cold,  sickly  and  damned  terms  of  honour. 
If  you  pretend  no  title  to  the  crown, 
And  will  not  now  proclaim  yourself  our  king, 
Upon  the  maiden  virtue  of  the  crown, 
I'll  do  a  rape.     And  brother,  if  in  peace 
She  does  not  just  and  lineal  entrance 
To  our  own  permit,  I  doubt  not  but  I 
Unto  reason  shall  soon  persuade  her  grace. 

F.  B.  Peace,  peace,  peace ! 
Your  strong  hand  and  strength,  my  lord,  shall  help  you 


20  The   Tragical  History  of 

To  ascend  to  heaven.     Have  I  disclaim'd 
My  land,  legitimation,  name  and  all, 
Cut  off  the  sequence  of  posterity, 
And  made  myself  a  subject  unto  you  ? 
Am  I  not  yet  the  rightful  Prince  of  Wales  ? 

Es.  Well,  let  your  heirs  (God  if  thy  will  be  so) 
Enrich  the  time  to  come  with  smooth-fac'd  peace, 
With  smiling  plenty,  and  fair  prosperous  days. 
England  long  was  mad,  and  scarr'd  the  brother 
With  the  brother's  sword ;  the  sire,  with  the  son's ; 
All  this  divided  York  and  Lancaster. 

0  now,  let  not  our  dear,  loving  England  * 
Be  again  divided  in  a  dire  division  : 

Therefore,  dear  brother,  live  and  be  a  king, 

And  may  a  hopeful  branch  spring  from  your  loins 

To  call  you  father,  and  enjoy  the  crown 

Until  the  rafters  of  the  earth  be  rent 

From  off  the  poles.     Our  cares  shall  be  alike 

In  this,  and  you  and  I  will  live  and  die 

Together. 

F.  B.  Thanks,  my  gentle  lord,  for  your  fair  promise. 

1  am  right  sorry,  but  I  must  from  hence 
Least  being  missed,  I  be  suspected  : 

So  brother,  I  will  say  no  more ;  farewell. 

{Exit  Bacon. 
Essex,  solus. 
There  spake  my  brother !  there  my  father's  grave 
Did  utter  forth  a  voice !    my  dear  brother, 
When  all  other  engines  fail,  flies  away. 
I  thought  at  least  he  would  have  said  to  me, 
'  Be  you  our  king,' — aye,  by  my  faith,  did  I. 
I  know  well  that  he  will  not  forsake  me, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  21 

Yet,  since  he  is  the  eldest  son  o'  th'  Queen, 

I  will  watch  him  with  most  careful,  tender 

Observation,  for  I  fear  some  ambush : 

Men  build  their  evils  on  the  graves  of  men. 

I  would  I  were  sole  child  unto  the  Queen — 

Why  should  she  live  to  fill  the  world  with  words ! 

I  cannot  love  her,  nor  will  strive  to  do  't, 

But  111  use  means  to  make  my  brother  king : 

Yet  as  he,  Francis,  has  neither  claimed  it, 

Or  deserved  it, — he  cannot  have  it ! 

His  highness,  '■Francis  First,'  shall  repose  him 

At  the  tower ;  fair,  or  not  fair  I  will 

Consign  my  gracious  brother  thereunto. 

Yes,  he  must  die ;  he  is  much  too  noble 

To  conserve  a  life  in  base  appliances ; 

He  hath  in  him  such  a  mind  of  honour 

Hell  never  make  an  assay  'gainst  the  Queen ; 

Were  there  twenty  brothers  betwixt  the  crown 

And  me,  I  would  make  it  mine.     How  am  I 

To  calm  the  tempest  whirling  in  the  court? 

Let  me  see — marry,  thus — to  Ireland 

Will  I  go  :    on  that  coast,  my  blazing  star 

Must  like  a  shining  meteor  appear; 

Then,  by  the  Lord,  my  vagrant  ensign  first 

Upon  th'  Irish  horizon  111  display, 

And  so  to  save  myself  I  will  away. 

(Exeunt.) 


22  The  Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Secundus.     Scena  Prima. 


{Room  in  the  Palace.) 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  Lords. 


Queen.  All  speak  praise  of  him,  and  the  bleared  sights 
Are  spectacled  to  see  him  pass  along ; 
The  kitchen  malkin  pins  her  richest  lockram 
1  Bout  her  reechie  neck,  clamboring  the  walls 
To  eye  him.     The  stalls,  the  bulks,  the  windows 
Are  smother'd  up,  leads  filled,  and  ridges  horsed 
With  variable  complexions,  all  'greeing 
In  earnestness  to  see  him.     The  nobles 
Do  press  among  the  popular  common  throng, 
And  puff  to  win  the  vulgar  station. 
Yea,  even  our  veiled  dames  commit  for  him, 
The  native  white  and  damask  red  within 
Their  nicely  gawded  cheeks,  unto  the  war 
And  wanton  spoil  o'  Phoebus'  burning  kisses. 
To  purge  his  humours  ill,  and  cool  his  hopes, 
Unto  Ireland  he  shall  at  once  be  sent, 
And  there  enforc'd  to  make  on  the  wild  Irish 
Rebels  a  wild  chase.     He's  too  affable, 
Too  fair-spoken,  and  doth  use  strange  sweetness 
And  blandishments  of  words;  he  must  away. 
A  brace  of  draymen  did  God-speed  him  well, 
And  had  the  tribute  of  his  supple  knee 
With,  k  thanks  my  countrymen,  my  loving  friends,' 
As  were  our  England  in  reversion  his 
And  he  our  subject's  next  degree  in  hope. 
Eow  now!  what's  the  matter,  Lord  Chamberlain? 


Our  Late   Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  23 

Lord  Chamberlain.  My  lord  is  here. 

Q.  Go  fetch  him  hither,  go ! 

( Enter  Essex. ) 
My  lord,  I  scarce  have  leisure  to  salute  you 
My  matter  is  so  rash. 

Essex.  Hail  to  your  grace : 
I  pray  you,  what  is  your  pleasure,  madam? 

Q.  You  must  away  to  Ireland,  my  lord  Earl ; 
The  uncivil  Kernes  of  Ireland  are  in  arms, 
And  temper  clay  with  blood  of  Englishmen. 
To  Ireland  will  you  lead  a  band  of  men, 
Collected  choicely,  from  each  county  some, 
And  try  your  hap  against  the  Irishmen. 

Es.  I  humbly  thank  your  most  royal  highness ; 
I  am  glad  of  this,  for  now,  gracious  Queen, 
I  shall  have  reason  to  show  the  love  and  duty 
That  I  bear  you,  with  a  franker  spirit. 

Q.  Stand  all  aloof  but  Essex ;  draw  you  near, 
Come  hither.     O  league  yourself  with  me, 
1  Till  I  have  pleas'd  my  discontented  peers, 
Then   no  longer  Earl  of  Essex,  and  of  Ewe, 
But,  Duke  of  York.     The  next  degree  shall  be 
England's  royal  throne,  for  King  of  England 
Shall  you  be  proclaim'd  in  every  borough ; 
And  he  that  throws  not  up  his  cap  for  joy, 
Shall  for  the  fault  make  forfeit  of  his  head : 
Therefore  my  good  lord,  fortify  your  hopes. 

Es.  O  you  do  mock  me.     My  princely  brother 
Francis,  your  quandam  son,  tells  me  flatly 
He  is  the  only  rightful  Prince  of  Wales. 

Q.  The  proud  jack!  'tis  true,  if  it  comes  to  that, 
He  is  Prince  of  Wales.     But  my  dear  lord, 


24  The   Tragical  History  of 

For  England's  good,  I'll  order  take  to  keep 

Him  from  the  diadem ;  only  this  my 

Poor  wretched  soul  torments ;  whether 

I  will  or  no,  you  must  depart  to  be 

Governor  of  Ireland,  and  there  abide 

Till  fortune  once  more  calls  vou  home  again. 

Here,  take  my  picture,  and  let  me  wear  thine. 

Es.  I  humbly  thank  your  majesty; 
Towards  Ireland  to-morrow  I  will  go. 

Q.  So  be  it,  for  it  cannot  be  but  you 
Will  beat  th'  usurping  rebels  down  to  hell, 
And  come  into  your  kingdom  ;  so  farewell. 

{Exeunt.) 


Actus  Secunclus.      Scena  Secunda. 


(Room  in  Essex  House.) 
Lord  Essex,  solus. 


Now  Essex,  now  or  never,  steel  thy  fearful  thoughts 
And  change  misdoubt  to  resolution  ; 
Be  that  thou  hop'st  to  be,  or  what  thou  art, 
Resign  to  death  ;  it  is  not  worth  th'  enjoying  : 
Let  pale-fac'd  fear  keep  with  the  mean-born  man, 
And  find  no  harbour  in  a  royal  heart. 

Faster  than  spring-time  showers,  comes  thought  on  thought. 
And  not  a  thought  but  thinks  on  dignity. 
My  brain,  more  busy  than  the  labouring  spider, 
Weaves  tedious  snares  to  trap  mine  enemies. 
Well  nobles,  well !  'tis  politicly  done, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  25 

To  send  me  packing  with  an  host  of  men : 

I  fear  me,  you  but  warm  the  starved  snake, 

Who  cherish'd  in  your  breast,  will  sting  your  heart. 

'  Twas  men  I  lack'd,  and  you  will  give  them  me ; 

I  take  it  kindly :    yet  be  well  assur'd, 

You  put  sharp  weapons  in  a  mad-man's  hands. 

Whiles  I,  in  Ireland  nourish  a  mighty  band, 

I  will  stir  up  in  England  some  black  storm, 

Shall  blow  ten  thousand  souls  to  heaven, — or  hell : 

And  this  fell  tempest  shall  not  cease  to  rage, 

Until  the  golden  circuit  on  my  head, 

Like  to  the  glorious  sun's  transparent  beams, 

Do  calm  the  fury  of  this  mad-bred  flaw. 

I  will  not  trust  my  mother,  nor  her  oaths ; 

But  I  will  claim  the  crown  by  open  war": 

I'll  meet  her  in  the  field,  and  in  the  end 

I'll  sieze  the  land,  and  by  my  lawful  right 

I  will  be  king, — or  die !     I  am  resolv'd 

Either  to  be  restored  to  my  blood, 

Or  make  my  will  th'  advantage  of  my  good. 

Now  for  the  rebels  which  stand  out  in  Ireland : 

Expedient  manage  must  be  made  of  them, 

Ere  further  leisure  yield  them  further  means 

For  their  advantage,  and  our  kingdom's  loss. 

And,  for  my  coffers  with  too  great  a  court 

And  liberal  largess  are  grown  fomewhat  light, — 

What  ho!  {Enter  Captain.) 

Captain,  go  you  unto  the  Queen, 
And  bid  her  send  me  presently  a  thousand  pound. 
Hold !  take  my  ring ;  away !  till  you  return 
I'll  rest  me  here ;  be  secret  and  away, 
To  part  the  blessings  of  this  happy  day.  (Exeunt.) 


26  The   Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Secundus.     Scena  Tertia. 


{Street  in  London.) 
Earl  of  Essex  and  Francis  Bacon. 


Francis  Bacon.  Brother,  be  of  good  cheer ;  I  warrant 
you 
We  will  all  play  our  parts  whiles  you're  away. 
'Tis  by  all  conjecture  likely,  that  the  Queen 
Will  unto  Nature  very  quickly  yield, 
And  call  you  home  again.     While  you're  away, 
Do  me  the  favour  to  dilate  at  full, 
What  God  may  please  to  send  to  you,  my  lord, 
And  what  hostages  to  Fortune  you  have  given. 

Essex.  I  will,  if  'twill  pleasure  you,  let  you  know 
What  doth  befall  me :    this  on  mine  Honour, 
I  will  perform  with  a  most  Christian  care. 
I  truly  will  deliver  and  discourse 
The  sum  of  all.     Leaving  this,  by  my  troth, 
I  fear  me  that  damnable,  both-sides  rogue 
Whom  I  did  chastise,  by  some  trick  of  state, 
Will  stand  "twixt  me  and  my  mother,  the  Queen, 
And  Sir  Walter  will  on  my  downfall  rise 
To  honour. 

F.  B.  Faith  sir,  you  need  to  fear  him ; 
A  crow  he  is,  e'en  a'  th'  s;ime  foul  nest, 
Not  altogether  so  great  as  is  the  first 
Tn  goodness,  but  greater  a  great  deal  in  evil. 
Though  he  excels  Robert  for  a  coward, 
Yrl  is  Robert  reputed  one  o'  th'  very  best 
That  is,  in  cowardice.     When  we  were  boys, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  27 

In  a  retreat  he  would  out-run  a  lackey ; 

Marry,  in  coming  on  he  had  the  cramp. 

And  I  know  that  they  will  backbite  you  sir ; 

They  plainly  have  avowed  to  do  you  wrong. 

Renowned,  rich  and  happy  men,  they  hate, 

And  do  repine  at  their  felicity, 

And  would  be  glad  you  met  with  some  mischance. 

Es.  Candied  be  they,  and  melt  ere  they  molest. 
But  soft,  I  pray  you, — we  have  lost  our  troop ; 
By  their  trumpets,  you  may  know  they  are  gone 
A  contrary  way.     Come,  come,  let's  follow. 

F.  B.  Here  must  I  say  farewell  to  you,  my  lord; 
May  God  preserve  your  health,  and  grant  you  Fortune's  good. 

Es.  Commend  me  to  my  wife ;  farewell ;  adieu. 

(Exit  Essex.) 
Bacon,  solus. 

Ah !  what  now  rests  but  that  I  spend  my  time 
With  stately  triumphs,  mirthful  comic  shows, 
Such  as  befit  the  pleasure  of  the  court : 
And  let  not  my  looks  put  on  my  purposes, 
But  look  fresh  and  merrily  to  everyone, 
And  bear  it  as  our  English  actors  do, 
Till  I  be  decked  in  my  lawful  rights 
That  now  I  see  another  stalled  in. 
•w  Pale  jealousy,  child  of  insatiate  love, 
Of  heart-sick  thoughts,  of  melancholy  bred, 
A  hell  tormenting  fear,  no  hell  can  move 
As  discontent,  with  deadly  poison  fed." 
Well,  he  is  gone,  and  with  him  go  these  thoughts, 
For  deep  malice  too  deep  incision  makes  ; 
Forget,  forgive,  conclude  and  be  agreed, 
As  doctors  say,  this  is  no  time  to  bleed.  {Exeunt.) 


28  The   Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Tertius.     Scena  Prima. 


(Audience  Room  in  the  Palace.) 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  Lords. 


Queen.  Why  dost  thou  quiver,  man  ? 

Cecil.  Please  it  your  grace  to  be  advertised, 
The  great  Earl  is  newly  come  from  Ireland, 
And  with  a  puissant  and  a  mighty  power 
Of  Gallow-glasses,  and  stout  Kernes, 
Is  marching  hitherward  in  proud  array, 
And  still  proclaimeth  as  he  comes  along, 
His  arms  are  only  to  remove  from  thee 
Thy  counsellors,  whom  he  doth  traitors  term  : 
Calls  them  false  caterpillars,  and  intends  their  death. 

Q.  Good  angels  preserve  me  !  this  be  sudden  ! 
Does  he  think  I,  his  some-time  queen,  be  dead  ? 
Or  to  be  a  king  and  win  a  world's  new  crown 
Musi  I  lose  life  and  here  be  stricken  down? 
We'll  withdraw  awhile,  and  in  the  early  morn 
Provide  us  with  some  good  messenger,  who 
Shall  our  purpose  bring  to  him  ;  so  farewell. 
My  heart  is  heavy  and  mine  age  is  weak. 
Grief  would  have  tears,  and  sorrow  bids  me  speak. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Tertius.     Scena  Secunda. 


(Chamber  of  the  Queen.) 

Ladies  of  the  Bed-chamber.     Enter  Queen  in  her  Night 

Robe,  with  a  Candle  in  her  Hand. 


First  Lady.  Lo !  here  she  comes ;  this  is  her  very  guise. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  29 

Upon  my  life  fast  asleep.     Observe  her. 

Second  Lady.    Merciful   heaven !    how  came   she    by 
that  light  ? 

F.  L.  Why  it  stood  by  her ;   continually 
She  has  light  by  her,  it  is  her  command. 
See,  her  eyes  are  open. 

S.  L.  Aye,  but  their  sense  are  shut ; 
Look !   how  she  rubs  her  hands ;   what  is  it  she  does  now  ? 

F.  L.  Washing  her  hands.     To  seem  thus  is  with  her 
An  accustom'd  action.     I  have  known  her 
To  continue  in  this  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Hark !  she  speaks ;  set  you  down  what  comes  from  her. 

Queen.  What  noise  is  that?  ha!  who  calls  Elizabeth? 
Bid  every  noise  be  still !    peace !    yet  again ! — 
Who  is  it  in  the  press  that  calls  on  me  ? 
I  hear  a  tongue  shriller  than  all  the  music 
Cry  to  me.     Speak  !   I  am  turn'd  to  hear  : 
Were  he  a  king  of  velvet  I  would  talk  with  him. 
O  agony  of  death !  O  wash  his  wounds 
And  bid  him  come  to  take  his  last  farewell ! 
O  God !    hark !    see,  see !    O  heavens  forfend ! 
Nay,  stare  not  masters, — know  ye  not  I  am 
A  mother  mocked  with  two  fair  babes  ? 
Nay,  too  long  have  I  liv'd,  when  as  my  son 
Thinks  to  abridge  my  days.     Go  seek  him  out  ■ 
Is  he  so  hasty  that  he  doth  suppose 
My  sleep  my  death  ?     In  God's  name  what  art  thou  ? 
Fell  banning  hag,  enchantress,  hold  thy  tongue ! 
A  plaguing  mischief  light  on  him,  and  thee. 
My  soul  is  heavy  and  I  fain  would  sleep. 

F.  L.  Let  us  withdraw  into  the  other  room. 

S.  L.  Speak  low,  she  wakes. 


30  The   Tragical  History  of 


Q.  Leicester  is  dead !    Mary  is  dead  ! 
God's  secret  judgment !     I  did  dream  to-night 
The  Earl  was  dumb,  and  could  not  speak  a  word. 

0  I  have  lov'd  thee  well,  many  a  time 

Have  danc'd  thee  on  my  knee,  sung  thee  asleep, 
And  made  my  loving  breast  thy  pillow  soft. 
Dead,  dead,  I  know  thou  art !     This  night  hath  been 
So  full  of  fearful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 
That  as  I  am  a  faithful  Christian  queen, 

1  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days, 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time. 

This  house  is  haunted  with  such  fearful  ghosts, 

Spirits  of  the  dead,  who  again  may  walk 

And  tell  their  secrets  base  to  those  asleep ; 

My  mother  unto  me  this  night  appear'd, 

And  did  cry  out  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill ! 

Methought  the  Earl  then  'gan  to  rage  and  rail, 

Cursing  himself  and  God,  and  damning  deep ; 

Then  saw  I  fast  the  red  blood  rayl  adown, 

From  head  to  foot  and  all  his  body  steep. 

O  it  is  monstrous,  monstrous !   my  dear  son 

In  the  ground  is  bedded,  and  I'll  seek  him 

Deeper  than  ere  plummet  sounded,  and  I'll 

Lie  with  him  there.  (Starts  to  leave  the  room.) 

F.  L.  Come  back,  come  back  your  highness ; 
Come,  go  unto  your  bed ;  come,  come ;  so,  so. 

Q.  I'll  not  to  bed  to-night !  let  me  alone. 
No  no,  I  warrant  thee  I  will  not  go  ; 
Canst  thou  tell  me  how  long  I  have  been  here  ?. 

F.  L.  Certainly  I  can. 

Q.  By  what,  I  pray  '(■    Wilt  thou  laugh  me  asleep  ? 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  31 

0  pity  me,  but  do  not  speak  to  me ; 

Lead  me  to  my  chamber ;  'tis  now  near  day 

And  I  will  stir  about,     Go  thou  to  bed. 

F.  L.  God  save  your  grace  ;  it  grieves  me  to  see  thee 
Standing  like  one,  as  it  were  in  a  trance. 

Q.  I  have  dreamt 
Of  bloody  turbulence ;  and  this  whole  night 
Has  nothing  been  but  shapes,  and  forms  of  slaughter. 

F.  L.  O  'tis  too  true  that  thou  hast  something  dreamt. 

Q.  Sweet,  kneel  thou  down  by  me, — thy  hands  hold 
up  — 
Fall  all  together,  and  for  mercy  kneel : 
Consort  with  me  in  loud  and  dear  petition. 

(  They  kneel  and  pray. ) 

0  God,  look  and  behold !  timeless  cruel  death 
Doth  now  stretch  out  his  ugly  sable  wings 
To  carry  my  amazed  soul  to  heaven. 

Thou  knowest,  God,  that  I  am  old,  and  past 
All  comforts  here  but  holy  prayers  to  Thee, 
And  that  my  task  will  soon  performed  be  : 
And,  O  my  Lord,  my  end  must  be  despair 
Unless  I  be  relieved  thus  by  prayer 
Which  so  pierces  heaven,  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  me  from  all  faults. 
Lord,  thou  dost  know  that  all  the  fellowship 

1  now  do  hold  with  worldly  men  and  earth, 
Is  only  miserable  wretchedness. 

Direct  me  by  Thy  will,  O  Holy  King, 

That  by  Thy  help  and  aid,  I  may  again 

Give  my  heart  peace,  sleep  to  my  nights ;  amen. 

F.  L.  Will't  please  your  grace  to  go  along  -with  us? 
Come,  you  look  paler  and  paler,  dear  Queen  : 


32  The   Tragical  History  of 


Pray  go  with  us  unto  your  bed,  and  there 
Enjoy  the  honey-heavy  dew  of  slumber. 

Q.  Come  then,  come,  and  be  thou  not  disturbed 
By  my  infirmity.     I'll  to  my  bed 
And  there  repose  till  golden  day  doth  break ; 
So  good  night. 

Ladies.  Your  good  grace,  we  wish  you  peace. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Tertius.      Scena  Tertia. 


(Outer  Chamber  of  the  Queen.) 
Ladies  of  the    Bed    Chamber. 


First  Lady.  What  noise  is  that !  didst  thou  not  hear 
a  noise? 

Second  Lady.  I  heard  no  noise. 

F.  L.  Hark !     Twice  have  the  trumpets  sounded  ! 
Marry,  what's  he  that  now  is  here  at  door  ? 
Stand  !  in  the  princess'  name,  O  stand !  sir,  stand ! 

{Enter  Essex.) 

Essex.  Peace  I  prithee,  peace ;  I  am  Essex'  Earl. 

F.  L.  Have  a  care,  my  lord ;  you  will  wake  the  Queen 
Who  is  disposed  to  sleep. 

Es.  Hence,  hence,  away ! 

F.  L.  My  lord,  you  are  unjust,  and  more  than  so  : 
You  pass  not  here,  lord ;  I'll  keep  this  door  safe. 

(Stands  in  front  of  the  door.) 

Es.  If  she  be  up,  I'll  speak  with  her :    if  not, 
Let  her  lie  still,  and  dream  :     by  your  leave, — hoa! 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  33 

I  know  her  women  are  about  her ;  what, 
What !  barr'st  thou  me  my  way ! 

Queen.  Hoa!  come  hither! 
Who  i'  th'  second  chamber  so  wildly  talks  ? 

F.  L.  Your  grace,  'tis  the  noble  Earl  of  Essex. 

Q.  Let  him  approach ;  call  in  my  gentlewomen. 

F.  L.  Gentlewomen,  her  royal  highness  calls. 
My  good  lord  Earl,  the  Queen  would  speak  with  you. 

[Enter  Essex  and  Gentlewomen.} 

Q.  Ah,  my  good  lord  Robert,  give  me  your  hand ; 
Come  here  ;    stand  by  me. 

Es.  O  your  majesty, 
If  I  had  had  time  to  have  new  liveries  made, 
I  would  have  bestowed  the  thousand  pounds 
I  borrowed  of  thee. 

Q.  'Tis  no  matter; 
This  poor  show  doth  better;  this  doth  infer 
The  zeal  thou  hast  to  see  me. 

Es.  It  doth  so ; 
It  shows  my  earnestness  in  affection. 

Q.  It  doth  so. 

Es.  My  devotion — 

Q.  It  doth,  it  doth,  it  doth. 

En.  As  it  were,  to  ride  day  and  night,  and  not 
To  deliberate,  not  to  remember, 
Not  to  have  patience  to  shift  me  even — 

Q.  It  is  most  certain. 

Es.  But  to  stand,  O  Queen, 
Travel-stained  and  sweating  with  desire 
To  see  thee,  and  thinking  of  nothing  else, 
Aye,  putting  all  affairs  in  oblivion, 
As  if  there  were  nothing  else  to  be  done 


34  The  Tragical  History  of 

But  to  see  thee. 

Q.  Bless  thee,  my  blessed  boy. 

Es.  I  would  not  change  this  oddly  suited  hue, 
Except  to  steal  your  thoughts,  my  gentle  Queen. 
Dare  I  open  my  mind  to  thee,  0  Queen, 
And  discourse  a  matter  of  some  moment"? 
Dare  I  presume  what  audacity  wants, 
And  bashfulness  forbids  ? 

Q.  My  sweet  prince,  speak ;    say  on. 

Es.  Madam,  there  is  no  simple  man  that  sees 
This  jarring  discord  of  our  nobility, 
This  should'ring  of  each  other  in  the  court, 
This  factious  bandying  of  their  favourites, 
But  says  it  does  presage  some  ill  event. 
When  black  envy  breeds  unkind  division, 
There  comes  the  ruin,  there  begins  confusion. 

Q.  Tush !  that's  but  fancy,  let  it  rest. 
Other  affairs  must  now  be  managed. 
Draw  near ;  wear  thou  this  chain  about  thy  neck, 
Then,  sir,  withdraw,  and  in  an  hour  return. 

Es.  Though  kind  and  loving  thou  hast  always  been, 
Thy  gentle  words  do  comfort  me  this  day ; 
With  griefs  allayed,  with  sorrows  eased, 
I  willing  go  but  to  return;  farewell.  (Exit  Essex.) 

Q.  Unpin  my  night-gown  here  ;  prithee,  dispatch. 

F.  L.  Your  grace,  shall  I  go  fetch  your  silver  wool  ? 

Q.  No,  I'll  wear  my  silk  garb  mingled  with  gold. 

F.  L.  Well  troth,  I  think  your  other  rebato 
Were  better. 

Q.  No,  I  pray  thee,  good  Meg ;  I'll  wear  this. 

F.  L.  By  my  troth,  your  grace,  it  is  not  so  good ; 
It  is  too  costly  to  wear  every  day. 


Our  Late   Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  35 

Q.  Thou  art  a  fool ;   I  will  wear  none  but  this. 

F.  L.  O  your  grace,  I  beseech  you  pardon  me ; 
I  was  born  to  speak  all  mirth  and  no  matter. 

Q.  Your  silence  most  offends  me ;  to  be  merry 
Best  becomes  you,  for  out  of  question,  girl, 
You  were  born  in  a  very  merry  hour. 

F.  L.  Sure  your  highness ;  my  mother  cried,  and  then 
A  star  daunc'd,  and  under  that  was  I  born. 
I  like  this  new  tire  excellently  well, 
If  the  hair  were  a  single  thought  browner ; 
And  i'  faith,  your  gown's  a  most  rare  fashion ; 
I  saw  the  Duchess  of  Milan's  new  gown 
That  they  praise  so. 

Q.  O  that  exceeds  they  say. 

F.  L.  By  my  troth's  but  a  night-gown  in  respect 
Of  yours ;  'tis  cloth  a  gold  and  cuts  and  lac'd 
With  silver,  set  with  pearles  down  sleeves,  side  sleeves, 
And  skirts,  round  underborn  with  a  bluish 
Tinsel,  but  for  a  fine,  quaint,  and  graceful, 
Excellent  fashion,  yours  is  worth  ten  on't. 

Q.  God  give  me  grace  to  wear  it,  for  my  heart 
Is  exceeding  heavy.     When  thou  hast  done  this  chore, 
I'll  give  thee  leave  to  play.     Give  me  my  robe, 
Now,  rubies  and  diamonds,  now,  my  gloves, 
And  mind  sweet  heart,  array  my  curled  hair, 
And  on  my  head  put  my  cap ;  now,  my  shoes. 
My  lord  shall  find  us  in  a  rich  wardrobe 
When  he  doth  come.     No,  no  perfume,  I  pray. 

F.  L.  These  gloves  are  a  most  excellent  perfume. 

Q.  Look  who  comes  here !    belike  it  is  the  Earl ; 
Stand  all  aside ;  now  show  I  like  a  Queen. 

(Fnter  Essex.) 


36  The   Tragical  History  of 


I  trow,  he  shines  like  to  the  morning  sun, 
And  doth  perfume  the  chamber  as  he  comes. 
My  gentle  lord,  I  wish  thee  joy  :    come  here 
And  hang  thou  in  my  arms,  like  loving  fruit. 

(Queen  embraces  him.) 

Es.  By  my  soul,  till  the  tree  doth  die  I  will. 

Q.  My  noble  lord  Earl,  how  brook'st  thou  the  air 
After  thy  late  tossing  on  th'  breaking  seas  ? 

Es.  O  madam,  I  thought  myself  in  heaven ; 
And  did  salute  the  dear  earth  with  my  hand, 
As  a  long  parted  mother  with  her  child, 
Plays  fondly  with  her  tears,  and  smiles,  in  meeting ; 
So  weeping,  smiling,  I  did  greet  the  earth, 
And  with  my  hands  did  favor  it ;  oh  I 
Did  like  it  well,  and  did  weep  for  joy 
To  stand  upon  thy  kingdom  once  again. 

Q.  But,  my  lord,  fain  would  I  hear  of  Ireland : 
Upon  pretexts  incompetent  and  false, 
All  of  that  land,  IT  know,  is  up  in  arms. 

Es.  Madam,  the  wild  Irish  are  incult  dogs, 
Subtle,  barbarous,  uncivil  beggars, 
Naked,  bare  legg'd,  and  ugly  to  behold ; 
Idle  wenches  and  knaves.     And  they  have  turn'd 
A  paradise  into  a  wilderness. 
Than  a  woman,  they  far  more  fickle  are, 
And  be  full  of  jealousy,  and  novelty. 
Brought  up  unto  no  calling,  in  a  word, 
They  are  compelled  to  beg,  steal,  or  fight, 
And  then  to  be  hang'd  for  such  fight  or  theft. 

Q.  From  you,  my  lord,  their  vices  dissolute 
No  blazon  needs  :    they  already  too  well 
Are  known  in  every  hamlet,  village,  town 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  37 

And  city.     But  what  good  qualities  ha'  they? 

Es.  Your  grace,  they  are  for  murders  capable. 
They  all  confess  there's  daggers  in  men's  smiles, 
And  that  the  near  in  blood,  the  nearer  bloody. 
Ireland  is  a  black  soil,  wherein  mushrooms 
Like  upstart  weeds,  do  in  a  night  spring  up : 
Yet  to  their  leaders  and  eager  men  o'  war, 
They  are  all  most  worthy  in  affection. 
Neither  in  fierceness  nor  in  courage 
Do  the  Irish  fail,  for  our  English  troops, 
Their  chieftains  will  assail  in  furious  tight, 
Though  their  men  be  naked,  and  only  armYl 
With  darts  and  skeines.     Their  earl,  courageously 
With  swarms  of  wild  Irish  Kernes,  once  came  down 
And  battle  joined  with  me ;  but  his  men 
Being  almost  naked,  soon  groaning  lay 
Within  the  English  pale,  who  though  but  few, 
Upon  their  host  so  bravely  did  perform, 
1  Twas  an  execution  rather  than  a  light. 
This  furious  slaughter  of  them,  to  the  rest 
Was  a  great  discouragement,  insomuch, 
That  their  mightiest  died  upon  the  place  ; 
And,  by  bloody  slaughter,  I  there  impawn'd 
Their  chiefs,  for  surety  to  your  royal  grace. 
Please  you,  madam,  this  is  the  sum  of  all. 
Now  by  your  love,  I  am  induc'd  to  speak, 
And  I  do  hope  your  grace  forgets  not  how 
You  promised  (unless  I  be  deceiv'd) 
The  dukedom  o'  great  York  to  me ;  I  claim  it 
Of  your  majesty. 

Q.  How  comes  it  yours,  sir? 

Es.   Your  highness,  have  you  forgot  your  covenant  ? 


38  The   Tragical  History  of 


Q.  Praise  be  given,  sir,  to  your  remembrance. 
Your  plainness  and  your  shortness,  please  us  well. 
But  we'll  debate  awhile  by  what  safe  means 
Our  debt  may  be  to  you  repaid ;  we  will 
About  it  speedily,  so  trusty  son, 
I  pray  you  like  a  loving  child,  away, 
And  this  business,  privately,  to-night 
We'll  pass  upon ;  now,  my  dear  lord,  farewell. 

Es.  Your  royal  pleasure  shall  be  done ;  farewell. 

[Exit  Essex.) 

Q.  Who  comes?  [Knock.) 

F.  L.  Madam,  Master  Secretary. 

[Enter  Cecil.) 

Q.  Welcome,  sir ;  what  is  amiss  ? 

Cecil.  Marry,  this : 
In  time  of  storm  for  safety  to  ourselves 
Every  good  loyal  subject  to  the  crown 
Ought  allegiance  owe,  unto  your  grace : 
The  gates  that  to  rebellion  open  stand, 
Should  be  shut,  least  your  royal  crown  be  lost. 
Of  my  good  lord's  coming  were  you  forewarn'd  ? 

Q.  Why,  what  need?   thou  mak'st  wondrous  much 
of  this. 

Ce.  Never  was  monarch  better  fear'd,  and  lov'd, 
Than  is  your  majesty,  and  those  subjects 
That  sit  under  the  sweet  shade  of  your  true 
( rovernment,  do  serve  you,  gracious  madam, 
Willi  hearts  create  of  duty  and  of  zeal. 
There  be  but  one  I  think,  that  does  not  so. 

Q.  God  bless  him ;  every  man  speaks  well  of  him, 
Every  man  presents  him,  seeks,  and  sues  him 
For  his  love,  his  favour,  and  protection. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  39 

i 

All  but  you,  his  worship  serve  and  honour. 

Ce.  There  is  a  plot  to  rid  the  realm  of  thee. 
This  blot  pernicious  hath  sworn,  your  majesty, 
With  his  hand  he'll  take  thee  in, 
And  thy  head  displace,  and  set  it  on  th'  gates. 

Q.  What  sir !  what !  how  dares  thy  harsh  rude  tongue 
Sound  this  unpleasing  news  to  us  ? 

Ce.  Oh  Queen, 
Every  tongue  that  speaks,  brings  but  this  news. 

Q.  No  no,  we  know  your  drift,  yet  be  it  so 
'  Tis  but  the  common  cry  of  curs,  whose  breath 
AVe  hate,  as  reek  of  rotten  fens ; 
Whose  love  we  prize,  as  the  dead  carcasses 
Of  unburied  men  that  corrupt  our  air. 
He's  your  enemy. 

Ce.  Hear  me  speak  a  word ; 
Those  which  do  fly  before  the  battle  ends 
May  even  in  their  wives  and  children's  sight, 
Be  hang'd  up  for  example  at  their  doors. 
Therefore,  when  my  lord  from  Ireland  tied, 
And  bore  with  him  so  many  gentlemen 
An  infinite  distance  from  action's  seat, 
The  very  nerves  of  this  our  state  require 
That  he,  madam,  should  not  new  create  his  fault 
And  at  random  run.     Gracious  sovereign, 
It  is  not  honesty  in  me  to  speak 
What  I  have  seen  and  known,  but  observe  him, 
And  his  own  course  will  denote  him  so 
That  unto  your  grace  I  may  save  my  speech : 
Mark  how  he  continues — 

Q.  Alas,  alas,  say  on. 
I  am  sorry  that  I  am  so  deceiv'd  in  him. 


40  The   Tragical  History  of 

Ce.  Then  give  me  leave,  that  I  his  cool  conceit 
May  check;  I  beseech  your  grace,  that  I  may 
Tell  him  his  eager  and  excited  chase 
After  your  Highness'  crown  and  worthy  title, 
Is  an  injury. 

Q.  Spare  us  account,  sir, 
Of  our  sweet  son's  conceit ;  remember  sir, 
How  youngly  he  began  to  serve  his  country, 
How  long  he  hath  continued,  and  what  stock 
He  springs  of. 

Ce.  Aye,  madam,  but  when  thou  hear'st 
That  armed  powers  are  marching  hitherward, 
And  thy  son,  as  a  gracious  conqueror 
Straight  to  Westminster  goes,  there  to  be  crown'd ; 
When  limbs  are  lopt,  and  intrails  spread  about ; 
And  when,  your  grace,  night-walking  heralds  trudge 
Betwixt  thee  and  the  new  king;  when  thou  art 
Unto  my  lord  a  humble  suppliant, 
Look  not  to  be  pitied.     By  heaven,  Queen, 
Thou  art  not  safe.     I  do  beseech  your  grace, 
This  present  day  secure  this  jealous  man ; 
Upon  my  feeble  knee  I  beg  this  boon 
With  tears  not  lightly  shed. 

Q.  If  it  is  true, 
There  is  no  joy,  no  comfort,  no  sweetness, 
Nor  no  pleasure  more,  in  this  world  for  me ; 
For  not  out  of  error,  but  of  malice 
Hath  my  son  come  back ;  he  was  not  misled ; 
He  thought  harm  to  me :     I  like  it  not. 

Ce.  That  it  be  true,  I  do  engage  my  life. 

Q.  I  must  believe,  sir,  you  think  so,  and  will 
For  sealing  the  injuries  of  tongues 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of    Essex. 


41 


Within  the  court  and  kingdom,  grant  to  you 
A  warrant  that  the  gentle  earl,  my  son, 
May  as  a  private  man,  be  humble  brought 
Before  the  counsel.     Look  you,  sir, 
In  his  truth's  assurance  fixed  fast  I  rest: 
Yet  I  blame  him  that  he  uncall'd  return'd; 
His  bad  success  and  his  suspicious  course 
Will  tie  him  to  rebuke ;  he  is  quite  lost. 
From  deep  disgrace  I  cannot  save  him  now. 
Oh  Lord,  my  boy,  my  Robert,  my  fair  son, 
My  life,  my  joy,  my  food,  my  all  the  world, 
My  widow-comfort,  and  my  sorrow's  cure, 
By  flight  is  lost,  and  all  his  honour  stain'd. 
Call  for  the  music  in  the  other  room, 
Then  go  your  ways  ;  begone. 
Ce.  Madam,  farewell. 


(Exeunt.) 


Actus  Tertius.      Scena  Quarta. 


(Room  in  the  Palace.) 
Essex,  Bacon,  Lords  and  Gentlemen. 


Essex.  How  now,  what  news  with  thee? 
Francis  Bacon.  Bad,  my  lord  Earl ; 
Let  me  intreat  thee  hie  away  to  France. 

Es.  How,  me?     I  stand  on  fire.     Come  to  the  matter. 
F.  B.  All  too  soon  I  shall,  unless  thou  would'st  grieve 

quickly. 
Es.  Thou  torture  me  to  leave  unspoken  that — 


42  The   Tragical  History  of 

F.  B.  Which  to  be  spoke  would  torture  thee,  my  lord ; 
Yonder  deform'd  dog — 

Es.  Wherefore  ey'st  him  so  ? 

F.  B.  I'll  tell  thee,  sir,  in  private,  if  thou  please 
To  give  me  hearing. 

Es.  Aye,  with  all  my  heart, 
And  lend  my  best  attention ;  come  nearer, 
Say  in  mine  ear,  good  brother,  what  it  is. 

F.  B.  The  Queen  hath  given  to  him  a  warrant 
For  thy  arrest. 

Es.  What's  that  ?     Fie,  brother,  fie ! 
How  the  world  is  chang'd  with  you ;  know  you  not 
What  all  the  town  doth  know  ?     For  two  hours,  sir, 
I  did  talk  unto  the  Queen. 

F.  B.  Most  likely  : 
Then  the  secretary  came  to  Elizabeth, 
Told  her  you  were  a  traifOr  unto  the  crown, 
And  'gainst  her  life  did  make  conspiracies 
Continual.     Whereupon,  the  amazedQueen, 
Quite  besotted  with  his  speeches  base, 
Did  give  him  warrant  to  arrest  you,  sir. 
See,  my  lord,  through  the  chamber,  here  she  comes. 

(Fnter  Quee?i.) 

Queen.  Ha !  deem'st  thou  us  of  base  and  light  esteem  ? 
Why  stand  thou  sir?    what  are  we  sir?    nay  sir, 
What  art  thou?     Tut!  we  know  thee  sir,  though  thou 
Know  not  us.     Thou  art  a  bad  servant  sir, 
Deny  it  if  thou  canst.     Ha !  if  thou  deny'st  it 
Twenty  times,  thou  liest,  and  we  will  turn 
Thy  falsehood  to  thy  heart,  where  it  was  forg'd. 
For  thee  sir,  we  are  a  match,  in  despite, 
Of  all  mischance,  and  all  thy  'complices. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  4-'! 


Es.  Alas,  in  what  have  I  offended  thee? 
Why  speak'st  thou  thus  to  me?     What  cause,  madam, 
Hath  my  behaviour  to  thy  displeasure, 
That  thus  thou  dost  proceed  to  put  me  off? 
I  ne'er  hurt  thee!    do  me  right  and  justice. 

0  Queen,  thy  pleasure  is  my  near  offence, 
And  all  my  treason.     Certes,  all  the  harm 

1  ever  did  to  thee,  was  in  the  wish  my  lot 
Were  plac'd  in  such  felicity  as  thine. 
Villain-like,  he  lies  that  traitor  names  me : 
And  I  will  maintain  my  truth  and  honour  firmly 
On  him,  on  thee,  who  not  ?    that  in  this  kind 
Dares  to  term  me  a  traitor  to  thy  grace. 

Q.  My  lord,  now  you  grow  too  hot, 

Es.  Oh  madam — 

Q.  Sir,  dare  not  to  speak  one  syllable  more. 
Withdraw  unto  your  home,  my  noble  Earl ; 
Admit  no  messenger,  receive  no  token, 
Neglect  not  my  words,  I'll  call  my  council 
In  the  morn  to  question  thee ;  now  away. 

{Exit  Queen.) 

F.  B.  What  .man!     ne'er  pull  your  hat  upon  your 
brows ; 
Give  sorrow  words ;  the  grief  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er  fraught  heart  and  bids  it  break. 

Es.  Go  too,  go  too,  brother,  I  dare  not  speak. 

F.  B.  You  may  to  me,  and  'tis  most  meet  you  should. 

Es.  Nay,  good  sir,  neither  to  you  nor  any  one, 
Having  no  witness  to  confirm  my  speech. 
Let  me  take  leave  of  you ;  so  fare  you  well. 

F.  B.  Why  do  you  speak  so  faintly,  are  you  well  ? 

t 

Es.  No,  by  my  troth,  I  am  exceeding  ill, 


44  The   Tragical  History  of 

I  have  upon  my  forehead  here,  a  pain. 

F.  B.  Why  that's  with  grieving ;  'twill  away  again : 
Let  me  but  bind  it  hard,  it  will  be  well 
Within  this  hour;  hie  thee  to  bed;  farewell. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Quartus.     Seen  a  Prima. 


(Council  Chamber  in  the  Palace.) 
Queen  and  Essex. 


Queen.  My  lord  Earl, 
I  have,  and  most  unwillingly,  of  late 
Heard  many  grievous,  I  do  say  my  lord, 
Grievous  complaints  of  you,  which  being  consider'd 
Have  mov'd  us  and  our  council,  that  you  shall 
This  morning  come  before  us,  where  I  know 
You  cannot  with  such  freedom  purge  yourself, 
But  that,  till  further  trial  in  those  charges 
Which  will  require  your  answer,  you  must  take 
Your  patience  to  you,  and  be  well  contented 
To  make  here  this  day  all  needful  defence. 
It  fits  we  thus  proceed,  or  else  no  witness 
Would  come  against  you. 

Essex.  I  humbly  thank  your  highness, 
And  am  right  glad  to  catch  this  good  occasion 
Most  thoroughly  to  be  winnowed,  where  my  chaff 
And  corn  shall  fly  assunder,  for  I  know 
There's  none  stands  under  more  calumnious  tongues 
Than  I  myself,  poor  man.  {Kneels.) 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  45 

Q.  Stand  up  Essex, 
Thy  truth  and  integrity  is  rooted 
In  us  thy  friend.     Give  me  thy  hand,  stand  up, 
Prithee  let's  walk.     Now  by  my  Holy  Dame, 
What  manner  of  man  are  you  ?     My  lord,  I  look'd 
You  would  have  given  me  your  petition,  that 
I  should  have  ta'en  some  pains  to  bring  together 
Yourself  and  your  accusers,  and  to  have  heard  you 
Without  indurance  further. 

Es.  Most  dread  Queen, 
The  good  I  stand  on,  is  my  truth  and  honesty ; 
If  they  shall  fail  me,  then  mine  enemies 
Will  triumph  o'er  my  person,  which  I  weigh  not 
Being  of  those  virtues  vacant.     I  fear  nothing, 
What  can  be  said  against  me  ? 

Q.  Know  you  not 
How  your  state  stands  i1  th'  world,  with  the  whole  world? 
Your  enemies  are  many  and  not  small ;  their  j>ractices 
Must  bear  the  same  proportion,  and  not  ever 
The  justice  and  the  truth  o'  th'  question  carries 
The  dew  o1  th'  verdict  with  it.     But  if  sir, 
You  be  put  in  bondage,  appeal  to  us, 
And  deliver  us  this  ring,  that  downward 
Hath  succeeded  from  heir  to  heir,  some  four 
Or  five  descents  since  th'  first  father  wore  it. 
Are  you  content? 

Es.  Madam,  I  am  content. 

Q.  Then  get  you  gone,  sir,  and  do  as  I  have  bid  you. 

[Exit  Essex.) 
It  was  a  most  mad  fantastical  trick  in  him 
From  Ireland  to  steal  home  like  to  a  thief. 
I  wish  him  well,  but  lest  I  now  would  have 


46  The   Tragical  History  of 

My  palaces  possessed,  my  cities  sack'd, 

And  their  sky  threatening;  towers  razed, 

And  made  smooth  fields,  I  must  full  angry  wise 

Draw  forth  the  fatal  weapon  of  the  law, 

And  so  myself,  and  the  whole  state  defend. 

Ho  there !  is  it  not  two  o'  th'  clock  ? 

Let  the  lords  assemble. 

{Enter  lords.) 
My  lords,  welcome. 

I  will  not  stay,  lest  you  touch  not  upon 
These  matters  to  their  utmost  bounds.     Farewell. 

(Exit  Queen.) 
Cecil."  My  lords  of  the  council,  and  noble  peers, 
You  know  the  fiery  quality  of  the  Earl, 
How  unremovable  and  fixt  he  is 
In  his  own  course,  and  as  ye  are,  my  lords, 
The  special  watchmen  of  our  English  weal, 
Let  me  persuade  ye  all  to  join  your  hearts 
In  love  and  amity,  and  in  honour 
Of  the  commonweal,  stay  my  Lord  Robert 
In  his  moody,  discontented  fury. 
I  do  assure  ye  it  grieves  me  to  speak 
Of  that,  that  doth  make  my  lord  Earl 
A  forfeit  to  the  law,  but  as  ye  know, 
Civil  dissension  is  a  vip'rous  worm 
That  gnaws  the  bowels  of  the  commonwealth, 
And  we  are  not  safe,  if  we  yield  our  right 
To  deal  with  him  and  his  near  ambition. 
Oh,  what  a  scandal  to  the  crown  it  was, 
For  my  lord  to  take  swift  treacherous  flight, 
And  by  himself,  like  to  a  disguis'd  squire, 
To  return  and  rush  on  a  sudden,  in 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  47 


Upon  her  majesty,  who  was  not  clad 

In  needful  vestiments,  nor  meet  habiliments, 

But  naked,  sleeping  lay.     He  cared  not, 

But  in  haughty  hardiness,  without  rest, 

He  his  hand  did  rear,  and  forced  his  way 

Through  her  women,  who  counsell'd  him  to  forbear. 

Kage  lent  him  shame,  and  led  on  by  his  will 

He  made  a  stale  of  the  proud  Queen,  whose  youth 

And  freshness  wrinkles  Apollo's, — a  pearl 

Whose  price  hath  launched  above  a  thousand  ships, 

And  turn'd  crown'd  kings  to  merchants.     Therefore,  lords, 

Let  him  now  certain  punishment  receive, 

And  say  at  once  if  I  maintain  the  truth — 

Great  lords  and  gentlemen,  what  means  this  silence  ? 

Dare  no  man  answer  in  a  case  of  truth  ? 

L.  Oxford.  Faith,  I  have  been  a  truant  in  the  law, 
And  never  yet  could  frame  my  will  to  it, 
And  therefore  frame  the  law  unto  my  will. 
Between  two  hawks,  which  flies  the  higher  pitch, 
Between  two  dogs,  which  hath  the  deeper  mouth, 
Between  two  blades,  which  bears  the  better  temper, 
Between  two  horses,  which  doth  bear  him  best, 
Between  two  girls,  which  hath  the  merriest  eye, 
I  have  perhaps,  some  shallow  spirit  of  judgment : 
But  in  these  nice,  sharp  quillets  of  the  law, 
Good  faith,  I  am  no  wiser  than  a  daw. 

Ce.  What  means  this  ?     Hoa !  who  waits  there  ?     Call 
in  the  Earl. 

(Enter  the  Earl.) 

Es.  My  lords,  what  is  your  pleasure  with  me  ? 

Ce.  My  lord  Earl, 
You  have  of  late,  to  your  notorious  shame, 


48  The   Tragical  History  of 


Against  your  holy  oath,  like  a  traitor 

To  the  name  of  God,  lied  from  your  command, 

And  secretly  and  alone  returned 

From  Ireland.     First,  what  hath  brought  you  back 

Before  you  were  recalled  ?     And  second, 

Why  did  you,  like  a  testy,  choleric, 

Hare-brain'd,  rash,  furious  and  violent  fool, 

Being  warned,  approach  her  majesty 

As  upon  her  bed  she  lay?     Now,  my  lord, 

By  this  writ  you  are  bound  to  answer  us. 

Speak,  sir,  or  your  silence  on  the  instant 

Is  our  warrant  for  your  condemnation. 

Es.  My  lords,  knowing  that  I  do  speak  before 
Persons  both  wise  and  grave,  I  fear  no  harm. 
I  earnestly  desire  naught  but  justice. 
If  't  could  by  art  be  done,  I  truly  would, 
That  my  actions  might  like  unto  a  picture, 
Be  painted  in  a  glass,  that  our  great  Queen 
Might  face  to  face,  and  eye  to  eye,  behold 
My  honest  mind  and  truth.     Now  good  my  lords, 
By  that  fair  sun  that  shows  above  the  earth. 
With  my  rapier's  point,  I'll  defiance  send 
To  any  man  that  doth  me  traitor  call. 
Ne'er  yet  have  I  been  traitor  to  her  grace. 
Had  I  been  governed  by  ill  desires, 
By  length'ning  my  return  from  Ireland 
I  might,  with  goodly  host  of  armed  men 
Have  cross'd  the  wild  Irish  seas.     My  lords, 
Think  what  a  chance,  had  I  but  trained  up, 
(  By  drunken  prophecies,  libels  and  dreams) 
Those  most  miserable  of  men  to  fight. 
If  I  be  subtle,  false  and  treacherous, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  49 

When  th'  Queen,  her  anointed  body  did  commit 
Unto  my  care,  why  sirs,  from  forth  your  reach 
Did  I  not  destroy  her?     Attend  me,  lords, — 
I  came  in  peace,  mildness,  prayer  and  love, 
To  seek  out  the  proud,  insulting,  haughty 
Villains,  cowards,  dogs,  and  of  their  feather 
Many  more  proud  birds,  that  have  foully  wrought 
The  easy  melting  Queen,  like  wax,  against 
My  name  and  fame.     Sirs,  sirs  !    it  cannot  be 
You  think  I  fled  from  fear  ?     Ha !  Lord  Gray, 
Pembroke,  Derby,  my  lords,  what  do  you  say  ? 

L.  Gray.  I  know  not  what,  sir,  may  have  brought  you 
back, 
But  this  I  must  say  unto  you,  my  lord, 
You  do  her  gracious  majesty  offence, 
To  curse,  rayl  and  strive  against  those  powers 
That  she,  our  loving  sovereign,  invests 
Her  council  with. 

Eh.  Plague  of  your  council ! 
You  sent  me  deputy  to  Ireland, 
Par  from  succour,  from  the  Queen,  and  from  all 
That  might  have  mercy  had  on  my  poor  faults : 
And  if  those  came  short,  you,  my  lords,  I  know 
Served  me  a  many  false-hearted  turnes. 
Had  I  not  come  so  quickly  back,  T  faith, 
I  quickly  should  through  you,  have  lost  my  head. 

L.  G.  Speak  not  so  loud. 

Es.  Give  pardon  to  my  speech. 

Ce.  Hear  me  a  word,  you  speak  too  bitterly — 

Es.  I  cry  thee  mercy,  thou  deformed  dog : 
There  is  my  purse  to  cure  that  blow  of  mine. 

(Throivs  him  his  purse.) 


50  The   Tragical  History  of 


Ce.  So! 

L.  G.  For  shame,  sir. 

Es.  A  plague  upon  him.  dog ! 

L.  G.  My  lords,  let  us  put  an  end  to  this ;  come, 
Let  him  retire,  whiles  the  council  doth  consult. 

{Knter  a  messenger.) 

Messenger.  Her  majesty  doth  call  for  you,  my  lords, 
And  for  your  grace. 

Ce.  We  wait  upon  her  grace. 
Come,  will  you  go  with  me,  my  good  Lord  Gray  ? 

L.  G.  I  wait  upon  you  sir. 

Ce.  Then  let's  away. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Quartus.      Scena  Secunda. 


(Outer  Chamber  of  the  Palace.) 
Guard,  Enter  Essex. 


Essex.  All  fast !     Sure  you  know  me  sir  ? 
Guard.  Yes  my  lord, 
But  yet  I  cannot  help  you. 
Es.  Why,  why  ? 
G.  Your  grace  must  wait  till  you  be  called  for. 

(Enter  Lord  Chamberlain,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  and  Lords.) 
L.  Chamberlain.    Hear  the   Queen's  pleasure.      My 
Lord  of  Essex, 
She  commands  you  to  close  confine  yourself 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  51 

m 

To  York-House,  until  you  do  hear  further 
From  her  Highness. 

Es.  Where's  your  commission,  lords  ? 
Words  cannot  carry  authority  so  weighty. 

L.  C.  Who  dares  to  cross  them,  bearing  the  Queen's  will 
From  her  mouth  expressly  unto  you,  sir. 

Es.  Till  I  find  more  than  will,  or  words  to  do  it, 
(I  mean  your  malice)  know,  officious  lords, 
I  dare,  and  must  deny  it.     Now  I  feel 
Of  what  coarse  mettle  ye  are  moulded,  envy. 
How  eagerly  ye  follow  my  disgrace 
As  if  it  fed  ye,  and  how  sleek  and  wanton 
Ye  appear  in  everything  may  bring  my  ruin. 
Follow  your  envious  courses,  men  of  malice  ; 
Ye  have  Christian  warrant  for  'em,  and  no  doubt 
In  time  will  find  their  fit  rewards.     My  lords, 
I  will  not  wish  ye  half  my  miseries. 
I  have  more  charity.     But  say  I  warn'd  ye ; 
Take  heed,  for  heaven's  sake  take  heed,  lest  at  once 
The  burden  of  my  sorrows  fall  upon  ye. 

L.  C.  My  lord,  this  is  a  mere  distraction. 
Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

Es.  Laughed  at,  scorned — 

L.  C.  Thou  art  a  proud  traitor,  lord. 

Es.  Proud  lord,  thou  liest : 
Within  these  forty  hours,  thou  sir,  durst  better 
Have  burnt  that  tongue  of  thine  than  said  so. 

Bishop  of  Winchester.  Oh,  how  this  discord  doth  afflict 
my  soul. 
Oh,  if  you  love  me  as  you  say  you  do, 
Come,  my  lords,  come,  let  us  make  haste  and  go. 

{Exeunt.) 


52  The   Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Quartus.     Scena  Tertia. 


(Room  in  Essex  House.) 
The  Earl  and  Francis  Bacon. 


Essex.  But  be  thou  mild,  and  blush  not  at  my  shame, 
Nor  stir  at  nothing,  till  the  axe  of  death 
Hang  over  thee,  as  sure  it  shortly  will : 
For  Cecil — he  that  can  do  all  in  all 
With  her,  that  hateth  thee  and  hates  us  all, 
And  Gray,  and  impious  Raleigh,  that  false  dog — 
Have  all  lym'd  bushes  to  betray  thy  wings, 
And  fly  thou  how  thou  canst,  they'll  tangle  thee. 
But  fear  not  thou,  until  thy  foot  be  snar'd, 
Nor  never  seek  prevention  of  thy  foes. 

Francis  Bacon.  Ah  now,  forbear ;  thou  aimest  all  awry. 
I  must  offend  before  I  be  attainted. 
And  had  I  twenty  times  so  many  foes, 
And  each  of  them  had  twenty  times  their  power, 
All  these  could  not  procure  me  any  scath, 
So  long  as  I  am  loyal,  true,  and  crimeless. 
Are  my  chests  fill'd  up  with  extorted  gold  ? 
Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold  ? 
Whom  have  I  injur'd  that  they  seek  my  death? 
These  hands  are  free  from  guiltless  bloodshedding, 
This  breast  from  harboring  foul  deceitful  thoughts. 
I  scorn  their  worthless  threats. 

Es.  Say'st  thou  me  so  ? 

F.  B.  It  is  enough  :    every  man  knows  'tis  true. 
I  have  a  heart  as  little  apt  as  yours, 
And  yet  a  brain,  that  leads  my  use  of  anger 
To  better  Vantage.     Pray  be  counselled  : 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  58 

Your  greatest  help  is  quiet,  gentle  sir. 

I  pray  you  sort  your  heart  to  patience : 

These  few  days'  wonder  will  be  quickly  worn. 

Come,  you  have  bin  too  rough,  something  too  rough ; 

You  must  return  to  her  grace,  and  mend. 

I  say  to  you  as  I  was  said  to :     away, 

You  know  the  very  rode  into  her  kindness 

And  cannot  lose  your  way.     Would  you  had  heard 

Her  speak  of  you,  as  I  did,  my  dear  lord : 

I  was  mov'd  withal. 

Es.  I  dare  be  sworn  thou  wert. 
And  yet  my  scandal  was  not  wip'd  away, 
But  I  in  danger  for  the  breach  of  law. 

F.  B.  Yet  sir,  it  is  no  little  thing  to  make 
Mine  eyes  so  sweat  compassion. 

Es.  I  warrant 
You  cried  bitterly,  my  good  Francis. 
But  yet,  I  cannot  choose  but  laugh,  to  think 
Such  a  perfect  gyber  for  the  table 
As  thou  art,  sir,  should  have  cried  in  my  stead. 

F.  B.  She  praised  you  above  compare,  my  lord. 

Es.  Enough  of  this  ;    I  pray  thee,  hold  thy  peace. 
Do  as  thou  wilt,  for  I  have  done  with  thee. 

F.  B.  O  God ! 
You  shall  not  be  the  grave  of  your  own  deserving. 

Es.  Talk  not  to  me,  for  I'll  not  speak  a  word  : 
Pray  now  no  more.     God  bye  you  ;  fare  you  well. 

[Exit  Essex.) 

F.  B.  O  save  him  Christ,  from  his  ambition  foul, 
For  with  conceit  of  his  own  merit  upblown " 
He  now  doth  think  to  overthrow  the  crown, 
And  he  will  die,  unless  by  Thee  put  down.  {Exeunt.) 


54  The   Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Quartus.     Scena  Quarto, . 


{Lobby  of  the  Palace.) 
Queen  and  Francis  Bacon. 


Francis  Bacon.  I  beseech  you,  madam, 
If  you  think  fit,  or  that  it  may  be  done, 
Give  me  advantage  of  some  brief  discourse 
With  your  majesty  alone. 

Queen.  Pray  you  come, 
I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 
To  speak  your  bosom  freely.     Sir,  the  garden  here 
Is  convenient. 

F.  B.  I  am  much  bound  to  you. 

(  Queen  and  Bacon  enter  garden.} 
I  do  beseech  your  Grace  to  pardon  my  lord  Earl. 

Q.  Plead  you  to  me,  fair  sir,  for  this  traitor  ? 
I  would  not  spare  my  brother  in  this  case, 
If  he  should  scorn  me  so  apparently. 

F.  B.  How  !    traitor  ?    what  mean'st  thou  ?  tell  me, 
madam, 
Doth  any  one  accuse  him  for  a  traitor  ? 

Q.  Traitor ! — aye.     In  my  lord  Earl's  government, 
When  deputy  to  Ireland,  he  was 
Led  by  none,  no,  scarcely  by  his  own  laws, 
And  in  the  suppressing  and  punishing 
Of  treasons,  he  had  sir,  very  strange  kind 
Of  large  and  unexpected  pardons,  where 
Severe  executions  should  have  been  made, 
For  the  better  quitting  of  those  troables — 

F.  B.  He  hath  been  your  faithful  servant,  madam, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  55 

And  I  dare  lay  mine  honour  he  will  so  remain. 
I  would  he  were  here. 

Q.  Yea,  I  warrant  you. 
Yet,  mark  you  now  sir,  it  is  not  well  done 
To  take  the  tales  out  of  my  mouth. 

F.  B.  Your  Grace, 
Under  your  good  correction,  by  my  troth, 
I  will  speak  my  conscience  of  the  Earl. 
If  he  would  curry  with  Master  Robert, 
(Who  doth  seek  my  poor  brother's  life)  why  then, 
I  o'er-ween  to  think,  he  would  have  no  harm. 

Q.  Think  you  so  ?  are  you  never,  sir,  to  be 
Without  your  tricks  ?     I'll  tell  you  what  I  think : 
My  son  would  be  my  sovereign,  and  my  lord. 
But  I  will  watch  him  tame,  and  I  will  find 
Where  truth  is  hid,  though  it  were  hid  indeed 
Within  the  centre.     Aye,  that  I  will  sir. 

F.  B.  My  gracious  Madam,  I  pray  you  spare  him ; 
I  entreat  you  on  my  knees.  [Kneels  down.) 

Q.  Forbear  sir. 
Why  have  his  banish'd  and  forbidden  legs 
Dar'd  once  to  touch  a  dust  of  England's  ground, 
But  that  he  would  himself  be  England's  king? 
How  London  did  pour  forth  her  citizens, 
The  mayor  and  all  his  brethren  in  best  sort, 
Like  to  the  senators  of  th'  antique  Rome, 
With  the  plebeians  swarming  at  their  heels, 
Went  forth  to  fetch  their  conq'ring  Caesar  in, 
As  though  he  were  from  Ireland  coming. 
Rebellion  bringing  broached  on  his  sword. 
Did'st  thou  not  behold  the  dumb  men  throng  to  see  him, 
And  the  blind  to  hear  him  speak?      Matrons  flung  gloves, 


56  The  Tragical  History  of 

Ladies  and  maids  their  scarfs  and  handkerchiefs, 
Upon  him  as  he  pass'd.     The  nobles  bended 
As  to  Jove's  statue,  and  the  commons  made 
A  shower  and  thunder  with  their  caps  and  shouts. 

F.  B.  Gracious  Empress,  I  never  saw  the  like, 
But  yet  we  rather  shall  be  blest,  if  he 
Kemember  a  kinder  value  of  the  people, 
Than  he  hath  hereto  priz'd  them  at. 

Q.  Peace !  peace ! 
I  would  you  rather  had  been  silent,  sir ; 
An  Irish  sea  is  not  so  turbulent 
And  raging,  as  is  my  son. 

(Noise  and  tumult  within.     Enter  page.) 
Look  who  comes ; 
What's  the  matter,  boy?     Speak!     What  tumult's  this? 

Page.  O  the  Earl !    the  Earl !    he  hath  revolted. 

F.  B.  I  dare  warrant  it  is  but  an  uproar 
Begun  through  malice  of  my  brother's  state. 
Madam,  here  comes  a  messenger. 

( Enter  messenger. ) 

Q.  What  news  ? 

Messenger.  Such  news,  Madam,  as  grieves  me  to  report. 
To  get  the  crown  from  thee  and  take  the  court, 
My  lord,  the  Earl,  hath  dire  rebellion  rais'd ; 
London's  rude  slaves  and  disaffected  men, 
With  many  unrough  youths  that  even  now 
Protest  their  first  manhood,  unite  their  force 
To  his,  and  in  open  rebellion  rude, 
With  flaming  mouths  roar  fire  and  devastation. 

Q.  Go  prick  thy  face,  and  over-red  thy  fear 
Thou  lily  liver'd  boy;  death  of  my  soul, 
Those  linen  cheeks  of  thine  are  counsellors 


Our  Late   Brother,  End  of    Essex, 


To  fear.     What!  whey-face,  what!  art  thou  afear'd? 
Fear  not,  domestic  broils  clean  overblow  themselves. 
Methinks  I  am  a  prophet  new  inspir'd, 
And  thus  inspired,  do  foretell  of  him 
His  rash  fierce  blaze  of  riot  cannot  last, 
For  violent  fires  soon  burn  out  themselves  ; 
jSmall  showers  last  long,  but  sudden  storms  are  short ; 
He  tires  betimes,  that  spurs  too  fast  betimes ; 
With  eager  feeding,  food  doth  choke  the  feeder ; 
Sound  drums  and  trumpets,  and  the  Earl  will  fly. 
God  be  thanked  ;  here  Master  Robert  comes, 
And  closely  at  his  heels  follow  my  lords : 

( Enter  Cecil  and  Lords. ) 
God-den  unto  your  worships  ;  what's  the  news  ? 

Cecil.  Your  Majesty,  the  latest  news  we  hear, 
Is  that  the  angry  trumpet  sounds  alarm, 
And  dead  men's  cries  do  fill  the  empty  air. 

Q.  Send  succours,  lords,  and  stop  the  rage  betimes. 
Before  the  wound  do  grow  uncurable, 
For  being  green,  there  is  great  hope  of  help  : 
A  breach  that  craves  a  quick  expedient  stop. 
What  counsel  give  you  in  this  weighty  cause? 

Ce.  That  some  be  sent  unto  this  fire-brand's  house,. 
To  pacify  and  settle  the  base  multitude. 

Q.  0  excellent  device.     But  who  will  go? 

Lord  Chief  Justice.  I  will,  your  grace. 

Earl  of  Worcester.  And  I. 

Comptroller.  And  I. 

Q.  I  thank  you,  noble  lords ;  go  speedily 
And  learn  the  truth  of  this  uncivil  broil. 
Enquire  me  first  why  he  hath  enrolled, 
Like  to  a  scurvy  knave,  this  martial  strength. 


58  The   Tragical  History  of 


Tell  him  I'll  take  him  down,  and  he  were  twice 

Lustier  than  he  is ;  in  brief,  my  lords, 

Learn  this  great  traitor's  craft,  power  and  means. 

Good  Uncle,  help  to  order  several  powers 

To  London,  or  where'er  these  traitors  are  ; 

They  shall  not  live  within  this  world  I  swear, 

But  I  will  have  them,  if  I  once  know  where. 


( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Quartus.      Scena  Quinta. 


{Gate  in  Front  of  Essex  House.) 
Enter  Lords. 


Earl  of  Worcester.  Who  keeps  the  gate  here  ?  hoa ! 
Where  is  the  Earl  ? 

Porter.  What  shall  I  say  you  are  ? 

E.  W.  Tell  thou  the  Earl 
That  the  Chief  Justice  doth  attend  him  here. 

Por.  I  will  do  so ;  please  you  my  lords,  enter. 

(  Tlie  lords  enter  the  court. ) 

Soldier.  A  prize,  a  prize!    here's  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice. 
Ah  thou  fool,  thou  Surge,  nay  thou  buckram  lord, 
Now  art  thou,  noble  sir,  within  point-blank 
Of  our  jurisdiction.     Be  it  known,  sir, 
Unto  thee  by  this  most  regal  presence, 
Even  the  presence  of  my  Lord  Robert, 
That  he  is  the  beesome,  that  now  must  sweep 
The  court  clean  of  all  such  filth  as  thou  art. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  59 

Chief  Justice.  Insolent  villains! 

Sol.  Kill,  kill,  kill,  kill  him ! 

Essex.  Hold,  hold,  hold,  hold !  peace,  hoa !  no  outrage, 
peace ! 
The  man  is  noble  and  his  fame  folds  in 
This  orb  o'  th1  earth ;  his  least  offence  to  us 
Shall  have  judicious  hearing. 

C.  J.  My  lord  Earl, 
I  bring  you  tidings  of  the  Princess'  doom. 

Es.  What  less  than  doomsday,  is  the  Princess'  doom  ? 
Look  you,  my  lords,  you  will  but  waste  your  words ; 
I  have  under  me,  and  will  march  away 
With  such  a  multitude  of  armed  men, 
As  all  the  world  shall  tremble  at  their  view. 
For  what  doth  cherish  weeds  but  gentle  air? 
And  what  makes  robbers  bold,  but  too  much  lenity  ? 
With  scoffs  and  scorns  and  contumelious  taunts 
They  have  made  me  a  public  spectacle, 
The  scare-crow  that  frights  our  children.     My  lords, 
In  this  troublous  time  what  is  to  be  done? 
Shall  we  go  throw  away  our  coats  of  steel? 
Or  shall  we  on  the  helmets  of  our  foes, 
Achieve  new  honours  with  revengeful  arms, 
And  make  good  our  rights  by  force? 

C.  J.  My  lord  Earl, 
You  look  but  on  the  outside  of  this  work. 

Es.  Outside  or  inside,  I  will  not  return 
'  Till  my  attempt  so  much  be  glorified, 
As  to  my  ample  hope  was  promised, 
To  outlook  conquest  and  to  win  renown, 
Even  in  the  jaws  of  danger  and  of  death. 
Know  you  not  that  her  Highness  doth  intend 


60  The   Tragical  History  of 

To  raze,  blemish,  and  obscure  my  fair  fame  ? 

Hath  she  not  marked  me  for  death,  and  for  the  grave  ? 

But  to  this  I  will  not  submit,  I  trow, 

Or  be  inferior  to  the  proudest  peer. 

Ill  either  make  her  Gracious  Majesty 

Remove  the  people  vile,  who,  muddied  thick, 

Are  towards  me  unwholesome  in  their  thoughts, 

Or  sack  this  country  with  a  mutiny. 

Blood  and  destruction  shall  be  so  in  use, 

And  dreadful  objects  so  familiar, 

That  mothers  shall  but  smile,  when  they  behold 

Their  infants  quarter'd  with  the  hands  of  war. 

All  pity  chok'd  with  custom  of  fell  deeds, 

And  Typhon's  spirit  raging  for  revenge, 

With  Ate  by  his  side,  come  hot  from  hell, 

Shall  in  these  confines  with  a  monarch's  voice 

Cry  havoc,  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war. 

C.  J.  My  lord,  we  know  your  grace  to  be  a  man 
Just  and  upright,  and  for  your  royal  birth 
Inferior  to  none  but  to  her  Majesty. 
But  I  beseech  you,  do  not  cry  havoc 
Where  you  should  but  hunt  with  modest  warrant. 

Es.  Sir,  sir,  peace  ! 

E.  W.  Hear  me  speak. 

Es.  Speak  briefly  then, 
For  we  are  peremptory  to  dispatch. 

E.  W.  These  things  indeed  you  have  articulated, 
Proclaim'd  at  market  crosses,  read  in  churches, 
To  face  the  garment  of  rebellion 
Willi  some  fine  colour,  that  may  please  the  eye 
Of  fickle  changelings,  and  poor  discontents 
AVI i ich  gape,  and  rub  the  elbow  at  the  news 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  61 

Of  hurly-burly  innovation  : 

And  never  yet  did  insurrection  want 

Such  water-colours  to  impaint  his  cause, 

Nor  moody  beggars,  starving  for  a  time, 

Or  pell-mell  havoc  and  confusion. 

See  here  these  movers  that  do  prize  their  hours 

As  a  crack'd  drachme !     Cushions,  leaden  spoons, 

Irons  of  a  doit,  doublets  that  hangmen  would 

Bury  with  those  that  wore  them,  these  base  slaves 

Ere  yet  the  fight  be  done  will  all  pack  up. 

With  such  a  commodity  of  warm  slaves 

As  had  as  leave  hear  t\\"  devil  as  a  drum, 

Such  as  fear  tli'  report  of  a  caliver 

Worse  than  a  struck-fool,  or  a  hurt  wild-duck, 

Such  toasts  and  butter,  with  hearts  in  their  bellies 

No  bigger  than  pin's  heads,  do  you  think,  sir, 

To  fetch  off  victory  ?     You  are  deceiv'd. 

Es.  I  pray  you  all,  tell  me  what  they  deserve, 
That  do  conspire  my  death  with  devilish  plots 
Of  damned  witchcraft  ?  and  that  have  prevailed 
Upon  my  body  with  their  hellish  charms  ? 

Comptroller.  You  fur  your  gloves  with  reason  ;    here 
are  your  reasons : 
You  know  an  enemy  intends  you  harm, 
You  know  a  sword  employ'd  is  perilous, 
And  reason  flies  the  object  of  all  harm 
And  in  disaster  ends,  which  breaks,  my  lord, 
The  sides  of  royalty,  and  almost  appears — 

C.  J.  Not  almost  appears,  it  doth  appear. 

Compt.  Oh  passing  traitor,  perjur'd  and  unjust — 

Es.  Cease,  arrogant  Comptroller; 
Why  do  you  proclaim  us  traitors  all  ? 


62  The   Tragical  History  of 


Compt.  Who  finds  the  heifer  dead,  and  bleeding  fresh, 
And  sees  fast-by  a  butcher  with  an  axe, 
But  will  suspect  'twas  he  that  made  the  slaughter? 
Who  finds  the  partridge  in  the  puttock's  nest, 
But  may  imagine  how  the  bird  was  dead 
Although  the  kyte  soar  with  unbloodied  beak? 
Even  so  suspicious  is  this  tragedy. 

Es.  But  I  am  made  a  prologue  to  this  play, 
And  thousands  more,  that  yet  suspect  no  peril, 
Will  not  conclude  this  plotted  tragedy. 
Edgerton's  red  sparkling  eyes  blab  his  heart's  malice, 
And  Popham's  cloudy  brow  his  stormy  hate; 
Sharp  Worcester  unburdens  with  his  tongue, 
The  envious  load  that  lies  upon  his  heart ; 
The  dogg'd  Cecil,  that  reaches  at  the  moon, 
Whose  over-weening  arm  I  have  pluck'd  back, 
By  false  accuse  doth  level  at  my  life. 

C.  J.  Suspicion  always  haunts  the  guilty  mind, 
The  thief  doth  fear  each  bush  an  officer. 

Es.  The  bird  that  hath  been  limed  in  a  bush, 
With  trembling  wines  misdoubteth  every  bush. 

E.   W.  Come,  come,  the  cause.      If  arguing  makes  us 
sweat, 
The  proof  of  it  will  turn  to  redder  drops : 
Look !  I  draw  a  sword  against  conspirators ; 
When  think  you  that  the  sword  goes  up  again  ? 

Southampton.  Never,  my  lord,  till  another  Caesar 
Have  added  slaughter  to  the  swords  of  traitors. 

Es.  Anger  and  wrathful  fury  stops  my  speech. 

Rutland.  Why  are  you  mov'd?  be  patient,  my  lord, 
And  see  what  we  your  counsellors  have  done. 
My  lords,  now  let  us  all  be  resolute 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  63- 

And  either  have  our  wills  or  lose  our  lives. 

G.  J.  Meet  you  for  this,  proud  overbearing  peers  % 
What  scene  of  death  hath  Roscius  now  to  act? 

Es.  Sirrah,  leave  us  to  ourselves ;  we  must  confer. 

C.  J.  So  flies  the  wreakless  shepherd  from  the  wolf; 
So  first  the  harmless  sheep  doth  yield  his  fleece, 
And  next  his  throat,  unto  the  butcher's  knife. 

Es.  Dick  Smith,  and  Salisbury,  lay  hands  on  them. 

C.  J.  Villains  forbear,  we  are  th'  Queen's  councillors. 

Soldiers.    And   therefore   do  we   what  we   are   com- 
manded. 

C.  J.  Defiance,  traitors,  hurl  we  in  your  teeth. 

Es.  Stop   close  their  mouths,  let  them  not  speak  a 
word ! 
Lead  them  away,  give  them  good  watch ;  away. 

(Exit  soldiers  with  councillors.} 
My  countrymen — 

Soldiers.  Peace,  silence,  Essex  speaks. 

Es.  For  me,  the  ransom  of  my  bold  attempt 
Shall  be  this  cold  corpse  on  the  earth's  cold  face, 
But  if  I  thrive,  the  gain  of  my  attempt, 
The  least  of  you  shall  share  his  part  thereof. 
But  who  comes  here  ? 

(Enter  messenger.} 
It  is  our  messenger. 
How  now,  how  now ;   what  say  the  citizens  ? 

Messenger.  The  citizens  are  mum,  say  not  a  word. 
I  bid  them  that  did  love  their  country's  good, 
Cry, — '  God  save  Robert,  England's  royal  king.' 

Es.  And  did  they  so  ? 

Mes.  No,  so  God  help  me,  they  spake  not  a  word? 
But  like  dumb  statues,  or  breathing  stones, 


64  The   Tragical  History  „pf 

Star'd  each  on  other,  and  look'd  deadly  pale, 

Which  when  I  saw,  I  reprehended  them, 

And  ask'd  the  mayor  what  meant  this  wilful  silence : 

His  answer  was,  the  people  were  not  used 

To  be  spoke  to,  but  by  the  Recorder. 

Then  he  was  urg'd  to  tell  my  tale  again  : — 

kThus  saith  the  Earl,  thus  hath  the  Earl  inferr'd,' 

But  nothing  spoke  in  warrant  from  himself. 

When  he  had  done,  some  followers  of  mine  own, 

At  lower  end  of  th'  hall,  huiTd  up  their  caps 

And  some  ten  voices  cried, — '  God  save  King  Robert ! ' 

And  thus  I  took  the  vantage  of  these  few, — 

<  Thanks  gentle  citizens  and  friends,'  quoth  1, — 

'  This  generous  applause  and  cheerful  shout, 

Argues  your  wisdom,  and  your  love  to  Robert : ' 

And  even  here  brake  off  and  came  away. 

Es.  What  tongueless  blocks  were  they. 
Come,  let  us  take  a  muster  speedily  : 
Doomsday  is  near;    die  all,  die  merrily. 

Southampton.  Talk  not  of  dying,  I  am  out  of  fear 
Of  death,  or  death's  hand,  for  this  one  half  year. 

[Exeunt.) 


Actus  Quartus.     Scena  Sexta. 


(Street  in  London.) 
Enter  two  or  three  running  over  the  stage. 


First  Man.   Where  is  this  viper 
That  would  depopulate  the  city,  and  be  every  man  himself^ 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  65 

Second  Man.  Calmly,  I  do  beseech  you ;  here  he  comes. 

{Enter  Essex,  Southampton,  Rutland, 

Blunt,  Gorges,  with  their  power.) 

Essex.  Shame  and  confusion !  all  is  on  the  rout ; 
Fear  frames  disorder,  and  disorder  wounds 
Where  it  should  guard.     O  war,  thou  son  of  hell, 
Whom  angry  heavens  do  make  their  minister, 
Throw  in  the  frozen  bosoms  of  our  part, 
Hot  coals  of  vengeance.     Let  no  soldier  fly. 
He  that  is  truly  dedicate  to  war, 
Hath  no  self-love ;  nor  he  that  loves  himself 
Hath  not  essentially,  but  by  circumstance 
The  name  of  valor.     O  let  the  vile  world  end, 
And  the  premised  flames  of  the  last  day, 
Knit  earth  and  heaven  together. 

{Enter  a  soldier,  running.) 

Soldier.  My  lord,  there  is  an  army  gather'd  together 
In  Smithfield. 

Es.  Come  then,  let's  go  fight  with  them ; 
But  first  go  and  set  London  bridge  on  fire, 
And  if  you  can,  burn  down  the  Tower  too. 
Come,  let's  away !  away !  now  up  Fish  Street, 
Down  Saint  Magnus  Corner ;  kill  and  knock  down, 
Throw  them  into  the  Thames  ;  lay  out !  lay  out ! 
So  sirs ;  now  go  and  pull  down  the  Savoy : 
Others  to  the  Inns  of  Court ;  down  with  them  all  : 
Away !  burn  all  the  records  of  the  realm ; 
Away,  away! 

Once  more,  sweet  lords,  farewell. 
Now  let  us  altogether  to  our  troops, 
And  give  them  leave  to  fly,  that  will  not  stay, 
And  call  them  pillars  that  will  stand  to  us; 


66  The   Tragical  History  of 

. ■ v, 

And  if  we  thrive,  promise  them  such  rewards 

As  victors  wear  at  the  Olympian  games. 

This  may  plant  courage  in  their  quailing  breasts, 

For  yet  is  hope  of  life  and  victory : 

Forslow  no  longer,  make  we  hence  amain. 

Sound  drums  and  trumpets  boldly,  cheerfully; 

God  and  Saint  George,  Essex  and  victory. 

First  Soldier.  Go  fetch  fire. 

Second  Soldier.  Pluck  down  benches. 

F.  S.  Pluck  down  forms,  windows,  anything. 

Es.  Now  let  it  work :  mischief  thou  art  afoot ; 
Take  what  course  thou  wilt. 

(E?iter  one  running.} 
How  now  fellow? 

Messenger.  Arm  !    arm  !    my  lords  ;  the  foe  vaunts  in 
the  field. 
I  have  been  i'  th'  market  place,  and  sir,  'tis  fit 
You  make  strong  party,  or  defend  yourself 
By  calmness,  or  by  absence ;  all's  in  anger. 

Es.  Draw  near,  ye  people — 

First  Man.  No,  no,  no,  no,  no ! 
Thou  wretch,  despite  o'erwhelm  thee : 
What  should  the  people  do  with  these  rebels 
( hi  whom  depending,  their  obedience  fails 
To  th'  greater  bench?     In  a  rebellion. 
When  what's  not  meet,  but  what  must  be,  was  law, 
Then  were  they  chosen:  in  a  better  hour 
Let  what  is  meet,  be  said  it  must  be  meet. 
And  throw  their  power  i'  th'  dust. 
The  soldiers,  ho !  let  him  be  apprehended : 
Seize  him  soldiers;  down  with  him,  down  with  him; 
You  viperous  traitor,  hence. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  61 

Es.  Good  people, 
If  I  may  be  heard,  I  would  crave  a  word  or  two, 
The  which  shall  turn  you  to  no  farther  harm, 
Than  so  much  loss  of  time. 

F.  M.  Down  with  them,  ho ! 
Here's  he  that  would  take  from  you  all  power. 
Base,  leaden  earls,  that  glory  in  your  birth, 
Go  sit  at  home  and  eat  your  tenants1  beef. 
Manifest  treason !  weapons,  weapons,  weapons ! 

Es.  I  do  suspect  I  have  done  some  offence, 
That  seems  disgracious  in  the  city's  eye. 

( Enter  soldier. ) 

Soldier.  Against  thy  seat  both  old  and  young  rebel, 
And  all  goes  worse  than  I  have  power  to  tell. 

Es.  Too  well,  too  well  thou  tell'st  a  tale  so  ill. 
O  gentle  followers,  let's  return. 

Southampton.  Where  ? 

Es.  No  matter  where ;  of  comfort  no  man  speak : 
Let's  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  of  epitaphs, 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
Let's  choose  executors,  and  talk  of  wills : 
And  yet  not  so ;  for  what  can  we  bequeath, 
Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  ground  ? 
Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  lost  and  gone 
And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own,  but  death, 
And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth, 
Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 

{Exeunt.) 


68  The  Tragical  History  of 


Actus  Quartus.      Scena  Septima. 


{Front  of  Essex  House.) 
Enter  the  Lord  Lieutenant  and  Followers. 


Lord  Lieutenant.    Go  fellow,  get  thee  home,  provide 
some  carts 
And  bring  away  the  armour  that  is  there. 
Gentlemen,  will  you  muster  men?     If  I  know  how, 
Or  which  way  to  order  these  great  affairs 
Thus  disorderly  thrust  into  my  hands — 
Quick,  gentlemen,  go  muster  up  your  men 
And  meet  me  here  presently  at  the  gates. 
Come  cousin  Burghly,  I'll  dispose  of  you. 
What,  Essex!  wilt  thou  leave  the  house  and  fight, 
Or  shall  we  beat  the  stones  about  thine  ears  ? 

(Essex  on  the  walls.) 

Essex.  Alas  I  am  coop'd  up  here  for  defence. 

Raleigh.  Put  him  to  choler  straight :  he  hath  been  us'd 
Ever  to  conquer,  and  to  have  his  worth 
Of  contradiction ;  being  once  chaf  cl,  he  cannot 
Be  rein'd  again  to  temperance. 

L.  Lieut.  Very  well. 
My  lord,  dark  night  whose  black  contagious  breath 
Already  smokes  about  the  burning  crest 
Of  the  old,  feeble  and  day-wearied  sun, — 
Even  this  ill  night,  your  breathing  shall  expire, 
Paying  the  fine  of  rated  treachery, 
Even  with  a  treacherous  fine  of  all  your  lives. 
Lords,  to  the  charge !     Saint  George  and  victory ! 

(  Alarms  and  excursion.    They  set  upon  the  guards  who  fly. 

Enter  on  the  other  side  Earl  of  Lincoln  and  his  soldiers. ) 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  69 

Earl  of  Lincoln.    Brave  followers,  yonder  stands  the 
thorny  wood, 
Which  by  the  heaven's  assistance,  and  your  strength, 
Must  by  the  root  be  hewn  up  yet  ere  night. 
I  need  not  add  more  fuel  to  your  fire, 
For,  well  I  wot,  ye  blaze  to  burn  them  out : 
Give  signal  to  the  fight,  and  to  it  lords. 

(  They  assail  the  EarVs  house  on  two  sides.     Parley 
sounded.  Enter  Sir  Christoper  Blount  on  the  walls. ) 
E.  L.  What  noise  is  this  I  hear?     In  the  battle 
Dare  any  be  so  bold  to  sound  retreat 
Or  parley,  when  I  command  them  kill? 
Sir  Christopher  Blount.  Stay! 
E.  L.  Whatis't  knave? 
Sir  C.  B.  I  speak  to  thee  plain  soldier ; 
My  Lord  Lincoln,  my  message  is  to  you : 
The  noble  Lady  Essex  lieth  here, 
And  will  you  not,  my  lord,  give  her  rescue  ? 

E.  L.  Before  I  make  reply  to  aught  you  say, 
I  must  inform  the  rest. 

Sir  C.  B.  Go  about  it. 

E.  L.  Soldiers,  cease  not,  but  with  a  din  confus'd 
Enforce  the  present  execution. 

[Exit  Lincoln.     Alarm,  and  hattle.     Enter 
again  Lincoln.     Essex  on  the  wall.) 
E.  L.  My  lord,  in  the  base  court  we  will  attend 
To  speak  with  you ;    may  it  please  you  sir,  to  come  down ! 
Es.  Is  it  your  trick  to  make  me  ope  the  door? 
E.  L.  Nay,  we  are  prepar'd  to  parley  or  to  fight. 
Es.  Down,  down  I  come,  like  glist'ring  Photon 
Wanting  the  manage  of  unruly  jades. 

[Enter  Essex  on  one  side  of  the 
court,  lords  on  the  other.) 


70  The   Tragical  History  of 

L.  Lieut.  I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  th'  name 
Of  Robert  Earl  of  Essex,  and  with  thee 
All  the  rest  of  thy  revolted  faction. 

Es.  One  boon  I  beg. 

L.  Lieut.  Well  ask. 

Es.  And  shall  I  have? 

L.  Lieut.  You  shall. 

Es.  Then  give  me  leave  to  go. 

L.  Lieut.  Whither  ? 

Es.  Whither  you  will,  so  I  were  from  your  sight. 

L.  Lieut.  Go,  some  of  you,  convey  him  to  the  Tower. 

Es.  Is  there  no  other  way  of  mercy 
But  I  must  needs  to  th'  Tower  my  lords? 

L.  Lieut.  What  other 
Would  you  expect  ?     You  are  strangely  troublesome : 
Let  some  o1  th'  guard  be  ready  there. 

Es.  For  me  ? 
Must  I  go  like  a  traitor  thither? 

L.  Lieut.  Receive  him, 

And  see  him  safe  in  the  Tower. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Aches  Quartus.     Scena  Octava. 


{Audience  Room  of  the  Palace.) 
Enter  Queen  and  Attendants. 


Queen.  The  gaudy  babbling  and  remorseful  day, 
Is  crept  into  the  bosom  of  the  sea: 
And  now  loud  howling  wolves  arouse  the  jades 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  71 

That  drag  the  tragic  melancholy  night, 

Who  with  their  drowsy,  slow,  and  flagging  wings 

Clepe  dead-men's  graves,  and  from  their  misty  jaws 

Breathe  foul  contagious  darkness  in  the  air. 

Witness  my  son,  now  in  the  shade  of  death, 

Whose  bright  outshining  beams,  night's  cloudy  wrath 

Hath  in  eternal  darkness  folded  up. 

First  Lady.  Why  looks  your  Grace  so  heavily  to- 
night ? 

Q.  I  do  beweep  the  many  simple  gulls, 
Who  peradventure  now  must  lose  their  lives, 
Fifty  thousand  strong. 

F.  L.  O,  it  cannot  be ; 
Rumour  doth  double,  like  the  voice,  and  echo 
The  numbers  of  the  feared.     Please  it  your  Grace 
To  go  to  bed  ?     Upon  my  life,  Madam, 
The  pow'rs  that  you  already  have  sent  forth 
Shall  bring  the  prize  in  very  easily. 

Q.  Who  comes  here  ? 

{Enter  Messenger.) 
What's  the  news,  sir?   what's  the  news? 

Mess.  O  my  sweet  Queen,  news  fitting  to  the  night,' 
Black,  fearful,  comfortless,  and  horrible : 
All  Kent  hath  yielded ;  nothing  there  holds  out 
But  Dover  castle  :  London  hath  receiv'd, 
Like  a  kind  host,  Lord  Robert  and  his  powers, 
Who  doth  call  your  Grace  usurper,  openly, 
And  vows  to  crown  himself  in  Westminster. 
His  army  is  a  ragged  multitude, 
Who,  thirsting  after  prey,  spoil  the  city 
And  traitorously  threat  your  royal  court. 

Q\  Sir,  the  first  bringer  of  unwelcome  news 
Hath  but  a  losing  office ;  and  his  tongue 


72  The   Tragical  History  of 

Sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell, 
Remembered  knolling  a  departing  friend. 
Here  comes  my  servant  whom  I  newly  sent 
To  listen  after  news. 

(Entev  servant,  who  kneels.) 
Now  sir,  what  tidings  ? 

/Servant.  A  gentleman  (almost  fore-spent  with  speed) 
That  stopp'd  by  me  to  breathe  his  bloodied  horse, 
Told  me  that  rebellion  had  had  ill-luck. 
With  that  he  gave  his  able  horse  the  head, 
And  bending  forward  strook  his  able  heels 
Against  the  panting  sides  of  his  poor  jade 
Up  to  the  rowel  head;  and  starting  so, 
He  seem'd  in  running  to  devour  the  way, 
Stopping  no  longer  question. 

Q.  Ha !     Stand  up  : 
Said  he  that  rebellion  met  ill-luck? 
Stand  up,  I  say  :  where  is  the  Earl  ?     Is  he  dead  ? 

Ser.  Nay,  I  know  not  Madam. 

{Enter  Robert   Cecil.') 

Q.  Master  Robert, 
Where  is  the  Earl  ? 

Cecil.  In  the  tower,  your  Grace. 

Q.  Now  comes  the  sick  hour  that  his  surfeit  made  ; 
Now  shall  he  try  his  friends  that  flattered  him. 
What  is't  a  clock  ? 

Chamberlain.  Upon  the  stroke  of  four. 

Q.  Thanks,  my  good  lord  Chamberlain.     I'll  to  bed. 
Rebellion  in  this  land  shall  lose  his  way, 
Meeting  the  check  of  such  another  day : 
And  since  this  business  so  fair  is  done, 
We  will  not  leave  till  all  our  own  be  won. 

(Exeunt.) 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Ensex. 


!■> 


Actus  QuinUis.     Scena  Prima. 


{Room  in  Palace.) 
Enter  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  Scrivener  and  Messenger. 


Cecil.  Let  this  be  copied  out,  good  Master  Clerk, 
And  keep  it  safe  for  our  remembrance. 

(Hands  Scrivener  a  paper.     Exit  Scrivener.) 
Go  bear  this  letter  to  my  Lord  Lincoln, 
This  to  the  Earl  of  Derby  and  Lord  Gray. 
Come,  bustle,  bustle. 

Messenger.  Please  you  sir,  I  will. 

(Exit  Messenger.) 

Ce.  I  do  the  wrong,  and  first  begin  to  brawl. 
The  secret  mischiefs  that  I  set  abroach, 
I  lay  unto  the  grievous  charge  of  others, 
And  stir  the  Queen  against  her  dear  allies : 
And  she  believes  me  and  withal  whets  me 
To  be  reveng'd  on  all  my  enemies. 
And  then  I  sigh,  and  with  a  piece  of  Scripture 
Tell  her  that  God  bids  us  do  good  for  evil, 
And  thus  I  clothe  my  naked  villainy, 
With  odd  old  ends,  stoPn  forth  of  Holy  Writ, 
And  seem  a  saint,  when  most  I  play  the  devil. 
But  soft,  here  come  the  lords. 

(Enter  Lords  of  the  Council.') 
Great  lords,  all  hail. 

That  this  foul  deed  shall  smell  above  the  earth 
With  carrion  men  groaning  for  burial, 
And  to  make  a  period  of  tumultuous  broils, 
Her  Majesty  (God  bless  and  keep  her  safe) 
Hath  agreed  the  rebellious  Earl  to  bring 


74  The   Tragical  History  of 


On  Tuesday  next,  for  trial  for  his  treason 

Before  your  lordships  of  the  great  star-chamber; 

And  I  here  deliver,  by  th'  Queen  subscribe, 

The  writ  of  his  attainder  unto  you. 

Believe  me  lords,  were  none  more  wise  than  I, 

(And  yet  herein  I  judge  my  own  wit  good,) 

This  Essex  should  be  quickly  rid  the  world, 

To  rid  us  from  the  fear  we  have  of  him. 

That  he  should  die,  is  worthy  policy, 

And  we  want  no  colour  for  his  death : 

Tis  meet  he  be  condemn'd  by  course  of  Capital  law. 

Oxford.  Be  not  offended,  Master  Secretary : 
I  speak  not  as  in  absolute  fear  of  you. 
I  think  our  country  sinks  beneath  the  yoke ; 
It  weeps,  it  bleeds,  and  each  new  day  a  gash 
Is  added  to  her  wounds.     I  think,  withal, 
This  ague  fit  of  fear  is  over-blown, 
And  easy  task  it  is  to  win  our  own. 

Ce.  Beating  our  officers,  cursing  himself, 
Opposing  laws  with  strokes,  and  here  defying 
Those  whose  great  powers  must, try  him; 
Even  this  so  criminal,  and  in  such  capital  kind, 
Deserves  th'  extremest  death. 
There's  no  remedy,  my  noble  lord, 
Unless  by  so  doing,  our  good  city 
Cleave  in  the  midst  and  perish. 
The  time  shall  be  not  many  hours  of  age 
More  than  it  is,  ere  foul  sin  gathering  head 
Shall  break  into  corruption;  and  I  think, 
If  we  mean  to  thrive  and  do  good,  we  must 
With  rigorous  hand  resist  them  now, 
And  with  th'  axe  abate  the  edge  of  traitors, 


Our  Late   Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  75 

That  would  reduce  these  bloody  days  again, 

And  make  poor  England  weep  in  streams  oi"  blood. 

Lords.  Amen,  amen. 

Ce.  Ha !     Then  we  must,  my  lords, 
Let  them  not  live  to  taste  this  land's  increase 
That  would  with  treason  wound  this  fair  land's  peace. 

(Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Quintus.     Scena  Secunda. 


{Room  in  Palace.) 
Enter  Francis  Bacon  Alone. 


Francis  Bacon.  O  my  dear  brother  Essex,  God  doth 
know 
Thou  never  didst  them  wrong,  nor  no  man  wrong : 
And  as  the  butcher  takes  away  the  calf, 
And  binds  the  wretch,  and  beats  it  when  it  strays, 
Bearing  it  to  the  bloody  slaughter-house ; 
Even  so,  remorseless,  have  they  borne  thee  hence: 
And  as  the  dam  runs  lowing  up  and  down, 
Looking  the  way  her  harmless  young  one  went, 
And  can  do  nought  but  wail  her  darling's  loss; 
Even  so  myself  bewail  good  l!ssex'  case 
With  sad  unhelpful  tears ;  and  with  dimm'd  eyes, 
Look  after  him,  and  cannot  do  him  good. 
Fie  on  ambition,  and  fie  on  myself; 
I'll  speak  unto  the  Queen.     Lo  here  she  comes. 

(Flourish:   Enter  the  Queen.     Bacon  kneels.) 

Queen.  How  now,  good  Master  Bacon?  stand  thou  up! 


76  The   Tragical  History  of 

F.  B.  First,  Madam,  I  entreat  true  peace  of  you, 
Which  I  will  purchase  with  my  duteous  service. 
Your  Majesty,  I  do  not  sue  to  stand  ; 
Pardon  is  all  the  suit  I  have  in  hand, 
And  here  I  must  unload  my  grief. 
Q.  Your  grief? 

F.  B.  Aye,  and  the  common  grief  of  all  the  land . 
What !  did  my  brother  Robert  spend  his  youth, 
His  valor,  coin  and  people  in  the  wars  ? 
Did  he  so  often  lodge  in  open  tield, 
In  winter's  cold  and  summer's  parching  heat, 
But  to  conquer  death  ?     And  did  my  brother 
Toil  his  wits,  and  receive  deep  wounding  scars 
In  Ireland  and  Spain,  but  thus  to  die  ? 

Q.  What  you  have  spoke,  it  may  be  so,  perchance. 
Listen,  but  speak  not  to't,  and  take  thou  care : 
This  is  a  happier  and  more  comely  time, 
Than  when  these  fellows  ran  about  the  streets, 
Crying  confusion.     Robert  Essex  was 
A  worthy  officer  i'  th'  wars,  but  insolent, 
O'er-come  with  pride,  ambitious  past  all  thinking, 
Self-loving,  and  affecting  one  sole  throne, 
Without  assistance. 

F.  B.  O,  I  think  not  so. 

Q.  Show  me  one  scar  character'd  on  his  skin  i 
Men's  flesh  preserved  so  whole  do  seldom  win. 

F.  B.  Be  patient,  gentle  Queen. 

Q.  Ah,  fro  ward  man, 
Who  can  be  patient  in  such  great  extreme? 

F.  B.  Nay  then,  this  spark  will  prove  a  raging  fire, 
If  wind  and  fuel  be  brought  to  feed  it  with. 

Q.  Go  to,  sir,  I  say  he  shall  have  no  wrong. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  77 

F.  B.  Thou  knowest,  Madam,  Friar  Bacon's  brazen  head 
Pronounced  a  sentence ;  thus  it  said : — '  Time  is, 
Time  was,  and  Time  is  past.' 

Q.  Time  is  past,  indeed  : 
My  life,  my  fame,  my  glory,  all  are  past. 
Villain !    I'll  set  a  point  against  thy  breast. 
If  thou  dost  not  use  most  dear  employment 
In  what  I  further  shall  intend  to  do, 
By  heaven  I  will  tear  thee  joint  by  joint, 
And  strew  a  hungry  churchyard  with  thy  limbs : 
The  time  and  my  intents  are  savage  wild, 
More  fierce  and  more  inexorable  far, 
Than  empty  tigers  or  the  roaring  sea. 
Put  not  another  sin  upon  my  head, 
By  urging  me  to  fury.     O,  begone ! 

F.  B.  What  I  believe,  your  Majesty,  I'll  wail; 
What  know,  believe ;  and  what  I  can  redress, 
As  I  shall  find  the  time  to  friend,  I  will. 

Q.  You  cannot  make  gross  sins  look  clear. 

F.  B.  To  revenge  is  no  valor,  but  to  bear. 
And  Madam,  under  favor,  pardon  me, 
If  I  speak  like  a  captain. 

Why  do  fond  men  expose  themselves  to  battle, 
And  not  endure  all  threats  ?     Sleep  upon't. 

Q.  And  let  our  foes  quietly  cut  our  throats 
Without  repugnancy?     If  there  be 
Such  valor  in  the  bearing,  what  make  we 
Abroad  ?     Why  then,  women  are  more  valiant 
That  stay  at  home,  if  bearing  carry  it ; 
And  the  ass,  more  captain  than  the  lion ; 
The  fellow  loaden  with  irons,  wiser  than  the  judge, 
If  wisdom  be  in  suffering. 


The   Tragical  History  of 


F.  B.  O  Madam, 
As  you  are  great,  be  pitifully  good ; 
Who  cannot  condemn  rashness  in  cold  blood? 

Q.  To  kill,  I  grant,  is  sin's  extremest  gust, 
But  in  defence,  by  mercy  'tis  most  just. 
F.  B.  To  be  in  anger,  is  impiety. 
Q.  But  who  is  born  that  is  not  angry? 
Weigh  but  the  crime  with  this. 

Blood  hath  bought  blood,  and  blows  have  answer'd  blows ; 
Strength   match'd  with   strength,  and    power   confronted 

power ; 
Both  are  alike,  and  both  alike  we  like : 
One  must  prove  greatest. 

F.  B.  Believe  this,  Madam, 
No  ceremony  that  to  great  ones  'longs, 
Not  the  King's  crown,  nor  the  deputed  sword, 
The  marshal's  truncheon,  nor  the  judge's  robe, 
Becomes  them  with  one  half  so  good  a  grace 
As  mercy  does.     If  he  had  been  as  you, 
And  you  were  he,  you  would  have  slipt  like  him ; 
But  he,  like  you,  would  not  have  been  so  stern. 
Q.  I  was  not  born  to  die  on  Essex'  sword ! 
And  this  we  mean  to  do,  for  that  he  has 
(As  much  as  in  him  lies)  from  time  to  time 
Envied  against  the  Crown,  seeking  means 
To  pluck  away  our  power, — and  now  at  last 
Given  hostile  strokes,  and  that  not  in  the  presence 
Of  dreaded  justice,  but  on  the  ministers 
That  doth  distribute  it, — in  the  name  o'  th'  people. 
And  in  the  power  of  us  their  Queen,  we 
Will  push  destruction  and  perpetual  shame 
Out  of  the  weak  door  of  our  fainting  land. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  79' 

See,  here  in  bloody  lines  we  have  set  down 
And  what  is  written  shall  be  executed ; 
Your  brother  is  to  die,  as  his  offences 
Are  accounted  to  the  law. 

F.  B.  O  your  Grace, 
Are  not  you  then  as  cruel  as  the  sentence? 
I  know  no  law,  Madam,  that  answering 
One  foul  wrong,  lives  but  to  act  another. 

Q.  Be  satisfied ; 
Your  treacherous  brother  dies ;  be  content. 

F.  B.  Oh,  it  is  excellent,  your  Majesty, 
To  have  a  giant's  strength :    but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  like  a  giant. 

Q.  Peace,  peace  sir,  peace. 
Were  I  not  the  better  part  made  of  mercy, 
1  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  present,  thou  traitor. 

F.  B.  Why  do  you  dress  me  in  borrowed  robes? 

Q.  Thou  art  a  traitor. 

F.  B.  This  is  strange. 

Q.  Art  thou  not 
Ever  for  insurrections  arguing  ? 
But  he  that  temper'd  thee,  bade  thee  stand  up, 
Gave  thee  no  instance  why  thou  shouldst  do  treason, 
Unless  to  dub  thee  with  the  name  of  traitor. 
If  that  same  demon  that  hath  gull'd  thee  thus, 
Should  with  his  lion-gate  walk  the  whole  world, 
He  might  return  to  vasty  Tartar  back, 
And  tell  the  legions,  I  can  never  win 
A  soul  so  easy  as  that  Englishman's. 
O,  how  hast  thou  with  jealousy  infected 
The  sweetness  of  affiance !     Show  men  dutiful  ? 


80  The   Tragical  History  of 

Why  so  didst  thou  :  seem  they  grave  and  learned  ? 
W  hy  so  didst  thou  :  come  they  of  noble  family  ? 
Why  so  didst  thou :  seem  they  religious  ? 
Why  so  didst  thou.     Look  to  it,  thou  villain, 
Thy  life's  dependent  on  thy  brother's  death. 
Let  our  instruction  to  thee  be  thy  guide, 
Under  penalty  of  thine  own  false  head. 

F.  B.  I  do  partly  understand  your  meaning. 

Q.  Why  then,  go  get  thee  home,  thou  fragment  vile. 
Peruse  this  writing  here,  and  thou  shalt  know 
'Tis  death  for  death,  a  brother  for  a  brother : 
Haste  still  pays  haste,  and  leisure  answers  leisure ; 
Like  doth  quit  like,  and  measure  still  for  measure. 

{Exeunt.) 


Actus  Quintus.     Scena  Tertia. 


(Star-Chamber.) 

Judges,  Peers,  and  Lawyers.     Essex,  Rutland,  Blount,  and  Gorges. 


Chief  Justice.  Lord:  you  (against  all  proportion)  did 
bring  in 
Wonder,  to  wait  on  treason,  and  on  murder : 
And  whatsoever  cunning  fiend  it  was, 
That  wrought  upon  you  so  preposterously, 
Hath  got  the  voice  in  hell  for  excellence. 
In  sight  of  God,  and  us,  your  guilt  is  great ; 
Receive  the  sentence  of*  the  law  for  sin, 
Such  as  by  treason  are  adjudgM  to  death. 
You  four,  from  hence  to  prison,  back  again ; 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  81 

From  thence,  unto  the  place  of  execution  : 
And  may  our  God  in  mercy  quit  you. 
By  law  we  do  deliver  you ;  get  you  hence, 
(Poor  miserable  wretches)  to  your  death, 
The  taste  whereof,  God  of  his  mercy  give 
You  patience  to  endure,  and  true  repentance 
Of  all  your  dear  offences.     Bear  them  hence. 

Essex.  You  that  hear  me, 
This  from  a  dying  man  receive  as  certain : 
When  you  are  liberal  of  your  loves  and  counsels, 
Be  sure  you  be  not  loose ;  for  those  you  make  friends 
And  give  your  hearts  to,  when  they  once  perceive 
The  least  rub  in  your  fortunes,  fall  away 
Like  water  from  ye,  never  found  again 
But  where  they  mean  to  sink  ye.     Oh  brothers, 
Take  heed  of  yonder  deformed  dog : 
Look  when  he  fawns,  he  bites ;  and  when  he  bites, 
His  venom'd  tooth  will  rankle  to  the  death : 
Have  not  to  do  with  him,  beware  of  him ; 
Sin,  death,  and  hell  have  set  their  marks  on  him, 
And  all  their  ministers  attend  on  him. 
Do  not  scorn  me  for  my  gentle  counsel, 
Nor  sooth  the  devil  that  I  warn  ye  from. 
But  O,  remember  this  another  day, 
When  he  shall  split  your  very  hearts  with  sorrow, 
And  say,  poor  Robert  Essex  was  a  prophet : 
Or  live  each  of  you  subjects  to  his  hate, 
And  he  to  yours,  and  all  of  you  to  God's. 

Cecil.  My  lord, — 

Es.  No  lord  of  thine,  thou  haught,  insulting  man ; 
No,  nor  no  man's  lord :    I  have  no  name,  no  title ; 
No,  not  that  name  was  given  me  at  the  font. 


82  The   Tragical  History  of 

Ce.  My  lord,  you  do  me  shameful  injury, 
Falsely  to  draw  me  in  these  vile  suspects. 
If  I  unwillingly,  or  in  my  rage, 
Have  aught  committed  that  is  hardly  borne 
To  any  in  this  presence,  I  desire 
To  reconcile  me  to  his  friendty  peace : 
'Tis  death  to  me  to  be  at  enmity ; 
I  hate  it,  and  desire  all  good  men's  love. 
Of  you,  my  most  noble  cousin  Essex, 
If  ever  any  grudge  were  lodg'd  between  us, 
If  ever  any  malice  in  your  heart 
Was  hid  'gainst  me,  I  do  beseech  your  Grace, 
For  charity,  now  to  forgive  me. 

Es.  The  fires  i'  th'  lowest  hell  infold  you,  dog. 

Ce.  Nay,  temperately,  thou  great  traitor. 

Es.  Dost  call  me  traitor,  thou  injurious  slave? 
Within  thine  eyes  sat  twenty  thousand  deaths, 
In  thy  hands  clutch'd  as  many  millions,  in 
Thy  lying  tongue  both  numbers,  I  would  say, 
Thou  liest  unto  thee,  with  a  voice  as  free 
As  I  do  pray  to  God. 

Ce.  Mark  you  this,  lords  ? 

Es.  Nay,  all  of  you,  that  stand  and  look  at  me 
Whil'st  that  my  wretchedness  doth  bait  myself, — 
Though  some  of  you,  with  Pilate,  wash  your  hands, 
Showing  an  outward  pity ;  yet  you  Pilates 
Have  here  deliver'd  me  to  my  sour  cross, 
And  water  cannot  wash  away  your  sin. 

C.  J.  My  lord,  dispatch ;  read  o'er  these  articles. 

Es.  Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  I  cannot  see : 
And  yet  salt  water  blinds  them  not  so  much, 
But  they  can  see  a  sort  of  traitors  here. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  83 

Nay,  if  I  turn  mine  eyes  upon  myself, 
I  find  myself  a  traitor  with  the  rest. 

Ce.  You  speak,  my  lord,  as  if  you  were  a  god. 

Es.  As  for  my  country,  I  have  shed  my  blood, 
Not  fearing  outward  force :  so  shall  my  lungs 
Coin  words  till  their  decay,  against  these  measles 
Which  I  disdain  should  tetter  me. 

Ce.  Yet  sought 
The  very  way  to  catch  them ! 

C.  J.  What  ho,  there ! 

[Enter  Soldiers.) 
See  them  deliver'd  over 
To  execution,  and  the  hand  of  death. 

{Exeunt.) 


Actus  Quintus.     Scena  Quarta. 


{Street  in  London.) 
Enter  Two  Gentlemen. 


First  Gent.  Whither  away  so  fast? 

Second  Gent.  God  save  ye. 
Why  neighbour,  here  walk  I  to  find  you  out. 

F.  G.  Come,  come,  sans  compliment. 

S.  G.  Brief  then,  good  sir, 
Ev'n  to  the  hall,  to  hear  what  shall  become 
Of  the  great  Earl  of  Essex  and  of  Ewe. 

F.  G.  I'll  save  you  that  labour. 
Sir,  all's  now  done,  but  the  ceremony 


84  The  Tragical  History  of 

Of  bringing  back  the  prisoner. 

S.  G.  Were  you  there? 

F.  G.  Yes  indeed  was  I. 

S.  G.  Pray  speak ;  what  has  happened  ? 

F.  G.  You  may  guess  quickly. 

S.  G.  What!     Is  he  found  guilty? 

F.  G.  Yes  truly  is  he, 
And  condenin'd  upon't. 

S.  G.  I  am  sorry  for't. 

F.  G.  So  are  numbers  more. 

S.  G.  But  pray,  how  pass'd  it  ? 

F.  G.  I'll  tell  you  in  a  little.     The  great  Earl 
Came  to  the  bar,  where  to  his  accusations 
He  pleaded  still,  not  guilty,  and  alledg'd 
Many  sharp  reasons  to  defeat  the  law, — 
Yea,  with  a  splitting  power  and  made  to  tremble 
The  region  of  my  breast, — then  brought  they  in 
Those  who  conspir'd  with  him. 

S.  G.  Gorges  was  one 
Who  fed  him  with  his  promises. 

F.  G.  The  same ; 
All  these  accus'd  him  strongly,  which  he  fain 
Would  have  flung  from  him,  but  indeed  he  could  not. 
And  so  his  peers  upon  this  evidence, 
Have  found  him  guilty  of  high  treason.     Much 
He  spoke,  and  learnedly,  for  life ;  but  all 
Was  either  pitied  in  him,  or  forgotten. 

S.  G.  After  all  this,  how  did  he  bear  himself? 

F.  G.  When  he  was  brought  again  to  th1  bar  to  hear 
His  knell  rung  out,  his  judgment,  he  was  stirr'd 
With  such  agony,  he  sweat  extremely, 
And  something  spake  in  choler,  ill  and  hasty : 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  85 


But  he  fell  to  himself  again,  and  sweetly 
In  all  the  rest  show'd  a  most  noble  patience. 

S.  G.  Prithee,  let's  go  and  see  him. 

F.  G.  Stay  here,  sir, 
And  see  the  noble  ruin'd  man  you  speak  of. 
Look  where  he  comes. 

S.  G.  Stand  close  and  behold  him. 

[Enter  Essex  from  his  arraignment,  Tipstaves  before 
him;  the  axe  with  the  edge  towards  him.  Halberds 
on  each  side,  accompanied  by  the  common  people. ) 

Guard.  Prepare  there! 
The  Earl  is  coming;  see  the  barge  be  ready, 
And  fit  it  with  such  furniture  as  suits 
The  greatness  of  his  person. 

Essex.  Nay,  good  sir, 
Let  it  alone ;  my  state  will  now  but  mock  me. 
When  I  came  hither,  I  was  Lord  High  Marshal, 
And  Earl  of  Essex ;  now  am  I  nothing : 
Yet  am  I  richer  than  my  base  accusers, 
That  never  knew  what  truth  meant. 
All  good  people, 

You  that  thus  far  have  come  to  pity  me, 
Hear  what  I  say,  and  then  go  home  and  lose  me. 
I  have  this  day  receiv'd  a  traitor's  judgment, 
And  by  that  name  must  die ;  yet  Heaven  bear  witness, 
And,  if  I  have  a  conscience,  let  it  sink  me 
Even  as  the  axe  falls,  if  I  be  not  faithful. 
The  law  I  bear  no  malice  for  my  death, 
'T  has  done  upon  the  premises,  but  justice : 
But  those  that  sought  it,  I  could  wish  more  Christians : 
(Be  what  they  will)  I  heartily  forgive. 'em; 


86  The   Tragical  History  of 

Yet  let  'em  look  they  glory  not  in  mischief. 

Friends  and  neighbours,  you  few  that  lov'd  me, 

And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Robert  Essex, 

His  noble  friends  and  fellows,  whom  to  leave 

Is  only  bitter  to  him,  only  dying, 

Go  with  me  like  good  angels  to  my  end ; 

And  as  the  long  divorce  of  steel  falls  on  me, 

Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice, 

And  lift  my  soul  to  Heaven. 

Pray  for  me. 

I  must  now  forsake  ye,  for  the  last  hour 

Of  my  long  weary  life  is  come  upon  me : 

Farewell :  and  when  you  would  say  something  that  is  sad, 

Speak  how  I  fell. 

I  have  done ;  and  God  forgive  me. 

Lead  on,  a  God's  name. 

(Exeunt.) 


Actus  Quintus.     Scena  Quintet. 


{Garden  of  the  Palace.) 
Flourish.     Enter  Queen  and  Two  Ladies. 


Queen.  What  sport  shall  we  devise  here  in  this 
garden, 
To  drive  away  the  heavy  thought  of  care? 
Lady.  Madam,  we'll  play  at  bowles. 
Q.  Soft,  I  pray  thee; 
Who  comes  here  so  fast  ? 

(Enter  Lady  Essex,  Child,  and  Francis  Bacon.) 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  87 

Ha !  I  like  not  this. 

How  now,  mistress,  upon  what  cause  com'st  thou  ? 

What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Lady  Essex.  O  my  royal  Sovereign, 
My  heart  is  crack'd. 

Q.  How  crack'd  ?  inform  me. 

L.  E.  Alas,  I  am  a  woman,  friendless,  hopeless ; 
My  husband  at  death's  door.     O  give  me  leave 
And  let  me  kiss  my  lord  before  I  die, 
And  let  me  die  with  kissing  of  my  lord. 
Make  not  the  law  a  tyrant,  gracious  Queen. 

Q.  Peace  lady,  peace ;  he  hath  resisted  law, 
And  therefore  law  shall  scorn  him  further  trial 
Than  the  severity  of  the  public  power, 
Which  he  so  sets  at  naught. 

L.  E.  O  madam  ! 

Q.  Peace! 
And  such  a  one  as  he,  who  puts  his  shall, 
His  popular  shall,  against  a  graver  bench 
Than  ever  frown'd  in  Greece ! — by  Jove  himself, 
It  makes  the  country  base !  and  my  soul  aches 
To  know,  when  two  authorities  are  up, 
Neither  supreme,  how  soon  confusion 
May  enter  'twixt  the  gap  of  both,  and  take 
The  one  by  th'  other.     Yea,  he  must  die. 

L.  E.  O  let  him  live !  consider  further : 
His  act  did  not  o'ertake  his  bad  intent, 
And  must  be  buried  but  as  an  intent 
That  perished  by  th'  way :  thoughts  are  no  subjects, 
Intents,  but  merely  thoughts. 

Q.  Merely,  madam? 
He's  traitor  to  th'  height, — a  giant  traitor. 


88  The   Tragical  History  of 

Here's  his  period :  to  sheathe  his  knife  in  us 

Was  his  intent.     We  could  not  live  in  freedom 

And  this  man  out  of  prison, 

Who  being  accus'd  a  crafty  murderer, 

His  guilt  should  be  but  idly  posted  over 

Because  his  purpose  is  not  executed. 

L.  E.  Madam,  'tis  true. 

Q.  And  were't  not  madness  then 
To  make  the  fox  surveyor  of  the  fold? 
So,  the  poor  chicken  should  be  sure  of  death. 

Z.  E.  God  mend  all ! 
Madam,  I'll  take  my  leave. 

Francis  Bacon.  Give't  not  o'er  so ; 
To  her  again,  entreat  her,  dear  lady ; 
Kneel  down  before  her,  hang  upon  her  gown ; 
You  are  too  cold :  if  you  should  need  a  pin 
You  could  not  with  more  tame  a  tongue 
Desire  it :  to  her,  I  say. 

Z.  E.  Alas !     What  poor 
Ability's  in  me  to  do  him  good  ? 

F.  B.  Assay  the  power  you  have. 

Z.  E.  My  power,  alas,  I  doubt. 

F.  B.  Our  doubts  are  traitors 
And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win 
By  fearing  to  attempt ;  weep,  kneel  and  pray. 

Z.  E.  Must  he  needs  die  ? 

Q.  Madam,  no  remedy. 

Z.  E.  Yet  I  do  think  that  you  might  pardon  himy 
And  neither  heaven,  nor  man,  grieve  at  th'  mercy. 

Q.  I  will  not  do  't. 

Z.  E.  But  if  you  would,  you  can. 

Q.  Ha !  what  I  will  not,  that  I  cannot  do. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  89 

L.  E.  But  you  might  do't  and  do  the  world  no  wrong,, 
If  so  your  heart  were  touch'd  with  that  remorse, 
As  mine  is  to  him. 

Q.  He  is  sentenc'd : 
1  Tis  too  late,  too  late,  and  you  are  too  cold. 
If  he  find  mercy  in  the  law,  he  may ; 
If  none,  let  him  not  seek't  of  us. 

Z.  K  Alack ! 
If  you  had  so  offended  him,  he  would 
Have  weigh'd  you  by  your  deeds,  and  not  have  cut 
You  off,  Madam. 

Q.  O  harp  not  on  that  string ! 
Your  husband  must  die  to-morrow :    no  more, 
My  will  may  not  be  altered :    away ! 
Let  him  be  furnish'd  with  divines, 
And  have  all  charitable  preparations. 

F.  B.  Then  thou  wilt,  like  an  executioner, 
Cut  off  the  heads  of  too  fast  growing  sprays, 
That  look  too  lofty  in  thy  commonwealth  : 
All  must  be  even  in  thy  government. 

Q.  Hold  thy  peace  ! 
He  that  hath  suffer'd  this  disorder'd  spring, 
Hath  now  himself  met  with  the  fall  of  leaf : 
The  weeds,  that  his  broad-spreading  leaves  did  shelter, 
That  seera'd  in  eating  him  to  hold  him  up, 
Are  now  pulled  up,  root  and  all,  by  me  ; 
The  noisome  weeds,  that  without  profit  suck 
The  soil's  fertility  from  wholesome  flowers, 
I  will  root  all  away.     Avoid !  begone ! 

F.  B.  O  God!     I  fear  thy  justice  will  take  hold 
On  thee  and  me,  on  mine  and  thine,  for  this. 

Q.  I  have  no  further  gone  in  this,  than  by 


90  The    Tragical   History  of 


A  single  voice ;  and  that  not  pass'd  me,  but 

By  learned  approbation  of  the  judges.     If  I  am 

Traduc'd  by  ignorant  tongues,  which  neither  know 

My  faculties  nor  person,  yet  will  be 

The  chronicles  of  my  doings, — let  me  say 

'Tis  but  the  fate  of  place,  and  the  rough  brake 

That  virtue  must  go  through.     We  must  not  stint 

Our  necessary  actions,  in  the  fear 

To  cope  malicious  censurers,  which  ever, 

As  rav'nous  fishes,  do  a  vessel  follow 

That  is  new  trimm'd,  but  benefit  no  further 

Than  vainly  longing.     What  we  oft  do  best, 

By  sick  interpreters  (once  weak  ones)  is 

Not  ours,  or  not  allow'd ;  what  worst,  as  oft, 

Hitting  a  grosser  quality,  is  cried  up 

For  our  best  act.     If  we  shall  stand  still, 

In  fear  our  motion  will  be  mock'd  or  carp'd  at, 

We  should  take  root  here  where  we  sit, 

Or  sit,  state  statues  only. 

F.  B.  Things  done  well, 
And  with  a  care,  exempt  themselves  from  fear ; 
Things  done  without  example,  in  their  issue 
Are  to  be  fear'd.     Have  you  a  precedent 
Of  this  execution  ?     I  believe  not  any. 
You  must  not  rend  your  subjects  from  your  laws, 
And  stick  them  in  your  will.    Why,  when  you  take 
From  every  tree,  lop  bark  and  part  o'  th'  timber; 
And  leave  it  with  the  root  thus  hack'd, 
The  air  will  drink  the  sap. 

Q.  Advise  yourself. 
The  peace  of  England,  and  our  person's  safety, 
Enforce  us  to  this  execution, 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  91 

To  warn  false  traitors  from  the  like  attempts. 

We  now  have  sworn  to  weed  and  pluck  away 

Such  caterpillars  of  the  commonwealth, 

Sith  every  action  that  hath  gone  before, 

Whereof  we  have  record,  trial  did  draw 

Bias  and  thwart,  not  answering  the  aim, 

And  that  embodied  figure  of  the  thought 

That  gave  surmised  shape.  * 

But  mark  you,  sir,  degree  being  vizarded, 

The  un worthiest  shows  as  fairly  in  the  mask. 

The  heavens  themselves,  the  planets  and  this  centre, 

Observe  degree,  priority,  and  place, 

Insisture,  course,  proportion,  season,  form, 

Office,  and  custom,  all  in  line  of  order: 

And  therefore  is  the  glorious  planet  Sol 

In  noble  eminence,  enthron'd  and  spher'd 

Amidst  the  other,  whose  med'cinable  eye 

Corrects  the  ill  aspects  of  planets  evil, 

And  posts,  like  the  commandments  of  a  king, 

Sans  check,  to  good  and  bad.     But  when  the  planets, 

In  evil  mixture  to  disorder  wander, 

What  plagues,  and  what  portents,  what  mutiny? 

What  raging  of  the  sea  ?  shaking  of  earth  ? 

Commotions  in  the  winds?     Frights,  changes,  horrors, 

Divert  and  crack,  rend  and  deracinate 

The  unity  and  married  calm  of  states, 

Quite  from  their  fixture.     Oh,  when  degree  is  shak'd, 

(Which  is  the  ladder  to  all  high  designs) 

The  enterprise  is  sick.     How  could  communities, 

Degrees  in  schools,  and  brother-hoods  in  cities, 

Peaceful  commerce  from  dividable  shores, 

The  primogenitive,  and  due  of  birth,    . 


92  The   Tragical  History  of 

Prerogative  of  age,  crown,  sceptres,  laurels, 
(But  by  degree)  stand  in  authentic  place? 
Take  but  degree  away,  untune  that  string, 
And  hark !  what  discord  follows ;  each  thing  meets 
In  mere  oppugnancy.     The  bounded  waters, 
Should  lift  their  bosoms  higher  than  the  shores, 
And  make  a  sop  of  all  this  solid  globe ; 
Strength  should  be  lord  of  imbecility, 
And  the  rude  son  should  strike  his  father  dead ; 
Force  should  be  right,  or  rather,  right  and  wrong, 
(Between  whose  endless  jar  justice  resides) 
Should  lose  her  names,  and  so  should  justice  too. 
Then  everything  includes  itself  in  power, 
Power  into  will,  will  into  appetite, 
And  appetite  (an  universal  wolf) 
Must  make  perforce  an  universal  prey, 
And  last,  eat  up  himself:  therefore  tis  meet 
For  this  rebellion  he  should  die. 

F.  B.  Madam, 
To  guard  a  title  that  was  rich  before, 
To  gild  refined  gold,  to  paint  the  lily, 
To  throw  a  perfume  upon  the  violet, 
To  smooth  the  ice,  or  add  another  hue 
Unto  the  rain-bow,  or  with  taper-light, 
To  seek  the  beauteous  eye  of  heaven  to  garnish, 
Is  wasteful,  and  ridiculous  excess. 

Q.  You  know  not  what  you  speak!     I'll  see  that  he 
Be  executed  by  nine  to-morrow  morning : 
Bring  him  his  confessor,  let  him  be  prepar'd, 
For  that's  the  utmost  of  his  pilgrimage. 

F.  B.  Well !   heaven  forgive  him,  and  forgive  us  all; 
Some  rise  by  sin,  and  some  by  virtue  fall ; 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  oj    Essex.  93 

Some  run  from  brakes  of  ice,  and  answer  none, 
And  some  condemned  for  a  fault  alone : 
Now  civil  wounds  are  stopp'd,  peace  lives  again ; 
That  she  may  long  live  here,  God  say,  Amen. 

( Exeunt. ) 


Actus  Quintus.     Scena  Sexta. 


{Dungeon  in  the  Tower.) 
Enter  Robert  Earl  of  Essex. 


Essex.  No  bending  knee  will  call  me  Caesar  now, 
No  humble  suitors  prease  to  speak  for  right, 
No,  not  a  man  comes  for  redress  of  me ; 
For  how  can  I  help  them  and  not  myself, 
Not  knowing  how  to  find  the  open  air, 
But  toiling  desperately  to  find  it  out  ? 
So  1  were  out  of  prison,  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long ; 
And  so  1  should  be  here,  but  that  I  doubt 
That  Cecil  practices  more  harm  to  me : 
He  is  afraid  of  me  and  I  of  him. 

( Knocking  heard. ) 

Who  knocks  there  ? 

{Enter  Jailor.) 
Jailor.  My  lord,  one  comes  to  greet  you. 

[Enter  Baron.) 
Es.  What  art  thou  ?    And  how  com'st  thou  hither. 
Where  no  man  ever  comes  but  that  sad  dog 
That  brings  me  food  to  make  misfortune  live? 


94  The   Tragical  History  of 

Give  us  a  light  there,  hoa ! 

(Light  brought) 

0  thou  damn'd  cur, 

Whom  to  call  brother  would  infect  my  mouth, — 
Get  thee  gone,  thou  most  wicked  sir. 
F.  B.  My  lord, 

1  may  be  negligent,  foolish,  and  fearful ; 
In  every  one  of  these  no  man  is  free, 
But  that  his  negligence,  his  folly,  fear, 
Among  the  infinite  doings  of  the  world, 
Sometime  puts  forth  in  your  affairs,  my  lord. 
If  ever  I  were  willful-negligent 

It  was  my  folly ;  if  industriously 
I  play'd  the  fool,  it  was  my  negligence, 
Not  weighing  well  the  end ;  if  ever  fearful 
To  do  a  thing  where  I  the  issue  doubted, 
Whereof  the  execution  did  cry  out 
Against  the  non-performance,  'twas  a  fear 
Which  oft  infects  the  wisest :  these,  my  lord, 
Are  such  allow'd  infirmities  that  honesty 
Is  never  free  of.     But,  beseech  your  grace, 
Be  plainer  with  me  ;  let  me  know  my  trespass 
By  its  own  visage ;  if  I  then  deny  it, 
'Tis  none  of  mine.     Speak,  my  lord. 

Es.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

F.  B.  Why  dost  thou  laugh  ?  it  fits  not  with  this 
hour. 

Es.  Why  ?   I  have  not  another  tear  to  shed : 
Besides,  this  sorrow  is  an  enemy, 
And  would  usurp  upon  my  watery  eyes, 
And  make  them  blind  with  tributary  tears ; 
Then  which  way  will  I  find  revenge's  cave  ? 


Our  Late   Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  95 

F.  B.  Despair  not,  my  lord. 

Es.  Who  shall  hinder  me  ? 
I  will  despair,  and  be  at  enmity 
With  coz'ning  hope  ;  he  is  a  flatterer, 
A  parasite,  a  keeper  back  of  death, 
Who  gently  would  dissolve  the  bands  of  life, 
Which  false  hopes  linger  in  extremity. 

0  thou  damnable  fellow !    thou  coward ! 
Thou  cursed  Cain,  to  slay  thy  brother  Abel ! 
Soft  conscience  man ;  to  please  our  mother, 
Thou  help'st  to  kill  me.     Thou  congealed  ice, 
Preach  some  philosophy  to  make  me  mad, 
For,  being  not  mad,  but  sensible  of  grief, 

My  reasonable  part  produces  reason. 

F.  B.  O,  if  I  could,  what  grief  should  I  forget! 
O,  I  am  pale  at  heart  to  see  thine  eyes 
So  red !     Thou  must  be  patient. 

Es.  Away,  fool ! 
What !  think'st  thou  that  the  chirping  of  a  wren, 
By  crying  comfort  from  a  hollow  breast, 
Can  chase  away  the  first-conceived  sound  ? 
Hide  not  thy  poison  with  such  sugar'd  words. 

(Bacon  starts  to  embrace  him.) 
Lay  not  thy  hands  on  me ;  forbear  I  say ; 
Their  touch  affrights  me  as  a  serpent's  sting. 
Thou  baleful  messenger,  out  of  my  sight! 

F.  B.  Is  it  my  .fault  that  I  was  forc'd  to  plead  ? 
No,  indeed,  'twas  not.     How  much  thou  wrong'st  me, 
Heaven  be  my  judge. 

Es.  0  have  done,  have  done ! 
So  dear  I  lov'd  thee,  man,  that  I  must  weep : 

1  took  thee  for  the  plainest  harmless  creature, 


■96  The   Tragical   History  of 

That  breath'd  upon  the  earth,  a  Christian ; 
Made  thee  my  book,  wherein  my  soul  recorded 
The  history  of  all  her  secret  thoughts. 

0  momentary  grace  of  mortal  men, 

Which  we  more  hunt  for  than  the  grace  of  God ! 
Who  builds  his  hope  in  air  of  thy  good  looks, 
Lives  like  a  drunken  sailor  on  a  mast, 
Ready  with  every  nod  to  tumble  down, 
Into  the  fatal  bowels  of  the  deep ; 
And  I,  in  such  a  desp'rate  bay  of  death, 
Like  a  poor  bark,  of  sails  and  tackling  reft, 
Rush  all  to  pieces  on  thy  rocky  bosom. 

F.  B.  My  lord,  my  lord ! — 

Es.  Go,  coward  as  thou  art ! 
•Go,  base  intruder,  over-weening  slave, 
Bestow  thy  fawning  smiles  on  equal  mates, 
And  think  my  patience,  (more  than  thy  desert) 
Is  privilege  for  thy  departure  hence! 
Thank  me  for  this,  more  than  for  all  the  favours 
Which  (all  too-much)  I  have  bestow'd  on  thee. 
My  comfort  is,  that  heaven  will  take  my  soul, 
And  plague  injustice  with  the  pains  of  hell. 

F.  B.  Now  God  keep  you,  my  gracious  lord  Earl. 
If  that  black  scandal,  or  foul-fac'd  reproach, 
Attend  the  sequel  oi  your  imposition, 
Your  mere  enforcement  shall  acquittance  me 
From  all  the  impure  blots  and  stains  thereof; 
For  God  doth  know,  and  you  may  partly  see, 
How  far  I  am  from  the  desire  of  this. 

1  would  to  heaven  I  were  in  your  place, 
Within  this  loathsome  dungeon,  here  to  pine 
Away  my  pining  youth  and  fading  breath. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  97 

Es.  O  God!  what  mischief  work  the  wicked  ones, 
Heaping  confusion  on  their  own  heads  thereby ! 
O  God,  O  God,  O  God!  consumptions  sow 
In  hollow  bones  of  man ;  strike  their  sharp  shins, 
And  mar  men's  spurring.     Crack  the  lawyer's  voice, 
That  he  may  never  more  false  title  plead, 
Nor  sound  his  quillets  shrilly :  hoar  the  prophet, 
That  scold'st  against  the  quality  of  flesh, 
And  not  believes  himself.     Down  with  the  nose, 
Down  with  it  flat,  take  the  bridge  quite  away 
Of  him,  that  his  particular  to  foresee 
Smells  from  the  general  weal.     Make  curl'd  pate  ruffians 

bald ; 
And  let  the  unscarr'd  braggarts  of  the  war 
Derive  some  pain  from  thee.     Plague  all. 
O  devils,  devils,  devils ! 

Pluck  the  grave  wrinkled  judges  from  the  bench, 
And  minister  in  their  steads  to  general  filths. 
Convert  o'  th'  instant  green  virginity, 
Do't  in  their  parent's  eyes.     Bankrupts,  hold  fast 
Rather  than  render  back ;  out  with  thy  knives, 
And  cut  thy  trusters'  throats  !     Bound  servants,  steal ! 
Large-handed  robbers  thy  grave  masters  are, 
And  pill  by  law !     Maid,  to  thy  master's  bed ; 
Thy  mistress  is  o'  th'  brothel !     Some  of  sixteen 
Pluck  the  lyn'd  crutch  from  thy  old  limping  sire, 
With  it  beat  out  his  brains !  piety  and  fear, 
Religion  unto  God,  peace,  justice,  truth, 
Domestic  awe,  night-rest,  and  neighborhood, 
Instruction,  manners,  mysteries,  and  trades, 
Degrees,  observances,  customs,  and  laws, 
Decline  to  thy  confounding  contraries. 


98  Tfie  Tragical  History  of 

And  yet  confusion  live !     Plagues  incident  to  men, 
Thy  potent,  and  infectious  fevers  heap 
On  England,  ripe  for  stroke !  thou  cold  sciatica, 
Cripple  our  counsellors,  that  their  limbs  may  halt 
As  lamely  as  their  manners !  lust  and  liberty 
Creep  in  the  minds  and  marrows  of  our  youth, 
That  'gainst  the  stream  of  virtue  they  may  strive, 
And  drown  themselves  in  riot!  itches,  blains, 
Sow  all  the  English  bosoms,  and  their  crop 
Be  general  leprosy !  breath  infect  breath, 
That  their  society  (as  their  friendship)  may 
Be  merely  poison !     Let  courts  and  cities  be 
Made  all  of  false-fac'd  soothing ! — 
Look  thou,  who  comes  here? 

( Enter  Lord  Keeper. ) 

Lord  Keeper.  Sir,  away !  away ! 
Ha!  I  have  said  away! 

F.  B.  What  ?     I  am  fearful !    wherefore  frowns  he 
thus  ? 
All's  not  well. 

L.  K  Mr.  Bacon,  away,  away ! 

F.  B.  You  speak  a  language  that  I  understand  not. 
Have  you  no  countermand  for  Essex  yet, 
But  he  must  die  to-morrow  ? 

L.  K.  None  sir,  none. 

F.  B.  As  near  the  dawning,  keeper,  as  it  is, 
You  shall  hear  more  ere  morning. 

L.  K  Happily 
You  something  know ;  yet  I  believe  there  comes 
No  countermand ;  no  such  example  have  we : 
Besides,  upon  the  very  siege  of  justice, 
Her  Majesty  hath  to  the  public  ear 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of   Essex.  99 

Profess'd  the  contrary.     If  you  be  pleas'd, 
Retire  sir.  , 

F.  B.  My  lord,  I  will  even  take  my  leave  of  you. 
I  pray  you,  sir,  take  patience ;  I  have  hope, 
You  less  know  how  to  value  her  desert, 
Than  she  to  scant  her  duty.     So  farewell. 

Es.  So  part  we  sadly  in  this  troublous  world, 
To  meet  with  joy  in  sweet  Jerusalem. 

[Exit  Bacon.) 

Who's  within  there  ?  hoa  ! 

(Enter  Jailers.) 

Ha!  who's  here? 

What  would'st  thou,  fellow?  and  how  cam'st  thou  hither? 

First    Jailer.    I   would  speak  with  you,  and  I  came 
hither 
On  my  legs. 

Es.  What !  so  brief? 

F.  J.  'Tis  better  sir  than  to  be  tedious : 
Let  him  see  our  commission,  and  talk  no  more. 

L.  K.  I  am,  in  this,  commanded  to  deliver 
The  noble  Earl  of  Essex  to  your  hands. 
I  will  not  reason  what  is  meant  thereby. 

(Exit  Keeper.) 

F.  J.  Oh,  he  is  bold,  and  blushes  not  at  death. 

Es.  A  vaunt,  thou  hateful  villain,  get  thee  gone ! 

F.  J.  There's  the  great  traitor. 

Second  Jailer.  Ingrateful  fox,  'tis  he. 

F.  J.  Bind  fast  his  corky  arms. 

Es.  Help, — help, — help, — help  ! 
Here's  a  man  would  murder  me.     Help, — help, — help  ! 
I  will  not  struggle,  I  will  stand  stone  still. 

F.  J.   Bind  him,  I  say. 


100  The   Tragical  History  of 

8,  J.  Hard,  hard !     O  filthy  traitor ! 

F.  J.  Give  me  the  iron  I  say,  and  bind  him  here : 
To  this  chair  bind  him. 

Es.  Let  me  not  be  bound  : 
Alas,  why  need  you  be  so  boisterous  rough  ? 
0  I  am  undone,  O  I  am  undone ! 
Do  me  no  foul  play,friend ! 

F.  J.  Read  here,  traitor. 
Can  you  not  read  it  ?  is  it  not  fair  writ  ? 

Es.  How  now,  foolish  rheume ; 
Must  you,  with  hot  irons,  burn  out  both  mine  eyes  ? 
O  Heaven,  that  there  were  but  a  moth  in  yours, 
A  grain,  a  dust,  a  gnat,  a  wandering  hair, 
Any  annoyance  in  that  precious  sense : 
Then  feeling  what  small  things  are  boisterous  there, 
Your  vile  intents  must  needs  seem  horrible. 
O  spare  mine  eyes,  though  to  no  use  but  still  to  look  on 

you! 
Lo,  by  my  troth,  the  instrument  is  cold 
And  would  not  harm  me.     O  men,  if  you  will, 
Cut  out  my  tongue,  so  that  I  may  still  keep 
Both  mine  eyes  to  see. 

F.  J.  To  see  some  mischief! 

* 

See  shall  thou  never:   (fellows,  hold  the  chair:) 
Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I'll  set  my  foot ! 

Es.  He  that  will  think  to  live  till  he  be  old, 
Give  me  some  help  ! — O  save  me, — save  me ! — help  ! 

(  They  tear  out  one  of  his  eijes.) 
O  cruel !     O  God, — O  God, — O  God !  my  eyes  are  out ! 
Oh,  I  am  slain  ! 

F.  J.  My  lord,  you  have  one  eye  left ! 
One  side  will  mock  another ;  th'  other  too. 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  101 


Out,  vile  jelly!  where  is  thy  lustre  now? 

( They  tear  out  the  other  eye.) 
Es.  All  dark  and  comfortless ! — 
O  God,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature 
To  quit  this  horrid  act. 

F.  J.  Away  with  him ;  lead  him  unto  the  block. 

{Exeunt  Omnes.) 


102  The   Tragical    History   of 

Bacon  and  Decipherer. 

"  Away,  with  me,  all  you  whose  souls  abhor 
Th'  uncleanly  savors  of  a  slaughter-house." 

"  0,  I  am  stifled  with  this  smell  of  sin  ! 
I  am  best  pleas'd  to  be  from  such  a  deed. 

"  Thou  sheer,  immaculate,  and  silver  fountain 
Prom  whence  this  stream,  through  muddy  passages 
Hath  had  his  current,  and  defil'd  himself, 
Thy  overflow  of  good,  converts  the  bad, 
And  thy  abundant  goodness  shall  excuse 
This  deadly  blot  in  thy  digressing  friend. 
Now  he  is  gone,  I  do  but  stay  behind 
To  do  for  him  the  office  of  revenge, 
And  then  my  soul  shall  wait  on  his  to  heaven, 
As  it  on  earth  had  been  his  servant  still. 

0  God,  0  God  !     I  wish  the  wicked  Queen 
Had  cut  off  my  head  with  my  poor  brother's." 

"  Nay  do  not  banish  reason  ;  show  wisdom 
In  close  patience." 

"  Many  that  are  not  mad, 
Have  sure  more  lack  of  reason.     Look  thou,  sir, 
His  head  is  off,  his  eyes  pluck'd  out ;  and  I 
Must  hide  the  faults,  seem  true  and  gracious, 
Be  a  suitor  unto  his  substitutes, 
Or  go  to  prison.     Shall  I  continue?" 

"  I  am  your  free  dependent." 

"  Peace,  here  comes 
The  villain  that  did  murder  my  dear  lord  ! 
What  black  magician  conjures  up  this  fiend? 

1  beseech  you  look,  sir  ;  here  comes  to  him 
The  steeled  jailer  and  his  cut-purse  friend. 
Oh  'tis  an  accident  Heaven  provides  ! 
Let's  step  into  the  shadow  of  these  trees, 
And  listen  to  them." 


Our  Late  Brother,  Earl  of  Essex.  103 


Jailer.  I  do  beseech  you, 
O  good  my  lord,  that  I  may  speak  with  you. 

Cecil.  What's  the  matter  with  you  now,  my  masters  ? 

Ja.  Why,  stay  and  hear  me  speak. 

Ce.  Not  now,  not  now ; 
111  speak  with  nobody :  I  have  much  to  do. 

Ja.  Come  sir,  come  sir,  come  sir;    the  prince  is  dead. 
And  we  claim  the  promise  at  your  grace's  hand, 
And  look  to  have  it  yielded  with  all  kindness. 

Ce.  Get  you  hence,  instantly !  for  look  you,  sirs, 
Dogs  are  often  beat  for  barking. 

Ja.  Thou  dar'st  not,  coward,  live  to  see  the  day : 
Oppose  thy  steadfast-gazing  eyes  to  mine, 
See  if  thou  canst  out-face  me  with  thy  looks. 
Set  limb  to  limb  and  thou  art  far  the  lesser ; 
Thy  hand  is  but  a  finger  to  my  fist; 
Thy  leg  a  stick,  compar'd  with  this  truncheon ; 
My  foot  shall  fight  with  all  the  strength  thou  hast ; 
And  if  mine  arm  be  heaved  in  the  air, 
Thy  grave  is  digg'd  already  in  the  earth. 
Did'st  thou  not  tell  us  to  torture  and  oppress, 
Villify,  torment  and  crucify  him  ? 
Starve,  vex,  gall,  tyrannize  and  insult  him  ? 
To  put  out  both  his  eyes,  that  they  might  serve 
For  buttons  to  his  lips  to  keep  his  tongue 
From  catching  cold  ? 

Ce.  Out,  treacherous  villain ! 
Is't  not  enough  to  break  into  my  garden, 
And  like  a  thief  to  come  to  rob  my  ground. 
Climbing  my  walls  in  spite  of  me  the  owner, 
But  thou  wilt  brave  me  with  these  saucy  terms  ? 


104  The   Tragical  History  of 

Ja.  Brave  thee?  ay,  by  the  best  blood  that  ever  was 
broach'd, 
And  beard  thee  too. 

Ce.  Thou  miserable  wretch  :  « 

I  was  not  born  to  sue  but  to  command. 
Upon  mine  own  free-hold,  with  forty  feet 
Of  gallows  conning  thy  neck,  thou  shalt  hang. 

Ja.  What,  coward !  If  I  be  hang'd  look  to  it, 
Whither  I  go,  thither  shalt  thou  go  too. 

Ce.  Peace! 

Second  Jailer.  Hear  the  cryer. 

Ce.  What  the  devil  art  thou ! 

S.  J.  One  that  will  play  the  devil,  sir,  with  you, 
And  a  may  catch  your  hide  and  you  alone. 
You  are  the  hare  of  whom  the  proverb  goes, 
Whose  valour  plucks  dead  lions  by  the  beard; 
I'll  smoke  your  skin-coat,  and  I  catch  you  right ; 
Sirrah,  look  too't;  yfaith  I  will,  yfaith. 

Ce.  Well,  well,  put  up  your  sword. 

Ja.  Say  then  my  peace  is  made. 

Ce.  I  will  excuse  you  both,  and  for  his  death 
No  wind  of  blame  shall  breathe  against  you,  sirs ; 
Even  his  mother  shall  not  lay  a  fault  on  you. 
Come,  go  with  me,  speak  fair;  you  may  salve  so. 

Ja.  I'll  follow  sir,  as  they  say,  for  reward. 

S.  J.  He  that  rewards  me,  heaven  reward  him. 

( Exit  Cecil  and  Jailers. ) 


"  This  is  the  cruel  man  that  was  employ'd 
To  execute  that  execrable  tragedy, 
And  you  can  witness  with  me  this  is  true." 

"  This  is  the  strangest  tale  that  e'er  I  heard." 


Sir  $rcmcis  Bacon's  (£iplicr  Story. 


The  series  of  deciphered  writings  from  the  Shakespearean 
Plays,  the  stage  plays  of  Marlow,  the  works  of  Peele,  Green, 
Spenser  and  Burton,  has  reached  the  sixth  book,  and  others  in 
process  of  translation.  The  character  and  scope  of  the  mat- 
ter so  far  deciphered,  will  be  indicated  by  the  following 

SYNOPSIS. 


BOOK  I. 

Francis  Bacoii's  Letter  to  the  Decipherer.  1 

Embracing  the  plan  of  the  work,  explanation  of  methods, 
and  reasons  for  writing  the  narrative  in  Cipher. 

Epistle  Dedicatory.  45 

To  him  who  shall  find  the  Cipher. 

Description  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  56 

TIw  Curse.  61-67 

Upon  those  who  have  caused  his  humiliation. 

Francis  Bacon's  Life.  97 

Discovery  that  he  was  son  of  Elizabeth.     Confirmation  by 
his  foster  mother,  Lady  Ann  Bacon. 

Description  of  the  Reign  of  Elizabeth.  154 

The  Queers  Last  Days.  170 

Strangled  by  Robert  Cecil.  184 

Lady  Ann  Bacon  recounts  to  Francis  190 

The  early  life  of  Elizabeth  and  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Mary. 

BOOK  II. 

Continues  200 
The  account  of  Elizabeth  ;  the  wooing  of  Leicester  in  the  202 
Tower ;  bribes  the  Holy  Friar  to  take  him  to  Eliza- 
beth ;  frightens  him  into  performing  the  marriage  cer-  224 
emony ;  plotting  the  death  of  Leicester's  wife,  Ayme  226 
Robsart;  Ayme  Robsart  visits  the  Queen;  stormy  235 
interview ;  death  of  Ayme  Robsart.  248 


Second  Marriage  of  Elizabeth  and  Leicester. 

By  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  in  the  presence  of  Lady  Ann  Bacon 

and  Lord  Puckering.     Account  interrupted  by  a  sum-      250 
mons  from  the  Queen.  252 

Elizabeth  and  Francis.     Banished  to  France.  256 

The  Spanish  Armada.  263 

Prologue.  Phillip  II  demands,  through  ambassadors,  the 
hand  of  Elizabeth  in  marriage.  The  alternative  of 
refusal,  the  wresting  of  the  Crown  from  her  "  unlawful 
hands  "  by  war.  Elizabeth's  reply  to  the  ambassadors. 
Pedigree  of  the  Queen.  Appearance  of  the  Spanish 
Fleet. 

The  Great  Storm.  377 

Bacon's  description.  Bacon  rescues  Don  Pedro,  the  Span- 
ish Commander. 

BOOK  III. 

The  Spanish  Armada  Continued.  401 

Bacon  visits  the  Queen  and  pleads  for  his  prisoner  Don  Pedro  459 

whom  he  rescued  from  drowning.     Entrance  of  Lord  489 

High  Admiral,  Capt.  Palmer  and  Sir  Anthony  Cook.  492 

Don  Pedro  before  the  Queen.     Plea  for  mercy.  493 

"The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd."  494 

The  Queen  "aweary  of  his  speech,"  wishes  to  hear  the 

Admiral's  report  of  the  battle,   which   is  described.  495 

Capt.  Drake  tells  of  the  second  day's  battle.     Allegor-  498 

ical  description  giving  the  names  of  Spanish  and  Eng-  499 

lish  vessels  engaged.     Admiral  Howard  recounts  his  512 

part  in  the  fight.     Capt.  Drake  describes  the  storm.  526 

Capt.  Palmer's  experiences  in  the  German  Seas.  530 

Don  Martin,  a  prisoner  before  the  Queen.  552 

Bacon  again  begs  for  Don  Pedro.  558 

Enter  sailors  with  letters.  566 

"  The  end  has  come." 
So  by  a  roaring  tempest  on  the  flood, 
A  whole  Armado  of  convicted  sail 
Is  scatter'd  and  disjoin'd  from  fellowship. 

Epilogue.  567 

Francis  Bacon's  Life  at  the  Court  of  France  571 

BOOK  IV. 

Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  603 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  631 

Francis  Bacon  recurs  to  his  oivn  life.  650 

Hamlet.  652 

Discovery  by  the  Queen  that  Bacon  wrote  it,  and  the  fate 
of  tlic  first  copy. 

Tragedy  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  672 


Synopsis  of  "The  Historical  Tragedy  of  flary  Queen  of  Scots." 

Act  I.—  Scene  /.— Interview  between  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Counsellor  Francis  Bacon.  The  Law  of 
Treason.  *  *  *  Queen  Elizabeth  commands  the  presence  of  Leicester,  who  arranges 
to  bring  Mary  to  his  house  in  London  for  an  interview. 
Scene  2  — Banquet  room  at  house  of  Leicester.  Leicester  and  Mary  at  banquet  table.  Queen 
Elizabeth  secretly  enters;  hides  behind  statue.  Mary  proposes  marriage  to  Leicester, 
they  to  be  rulers  of  the  French,  English  and  Scottish  realms.     Elizabeth  steps  forth, 

"Doth  Scotland  make  your  Majesty  our  judge.'" 
Mary  in  surprised  alarm, 

"Alas,  lam  undone!     It  is  the  Queen." 
Interview  between  Elizabeth  and  Mary;  withdrawal  of  Elizabeth  and  Leicester. 
Act  II. — Scene  1. — In  front  of  Tower;  time,   midnight.     Stormy  interview  between  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  Leicester;  the  jealous  Queen  declares  his  banishment;  thrusts  hirn  away  and  enters. 
Leicester  in  rage: 

"I'll  empty  all  these  veins,  and  shed  my  blood 
Drop  by  drop  i1  tli  eai  t/i  ei  e  I  -oil!  go  ! 
Lei  my  soul  want  mercy  if  I  do  not  join 
With  Scot/and,  in  her  behalf.  ' 
Enter  Francis  Bacon,  who  counsels  a  different  course.     Leicester  requests  Bacon  to 
plead  for  him  to  the  Queen. 
Scene  2 — Audience  room  of  Palace.     Bacon  pleads  for  Leicester;  calls  upon  himself  the  wrath 
of  the  Queen;  takes  leave. 

"  No  power  I  have  to  speak,  I  know. 
And  so,  farewell,   I,  and  my  griefs  will  go." 
Enter  Leicester;  begs  that  he  be  not  banished;  Queen  repents. 
"  Restrain  thy  <//>/>/  ehension;  I  will  lay  ti  us/  upon  thee, 
And  thou  shall  find  I  'fill  preserve  and  love  thee. 

I  have  conferred  on  thee  the  commandment  of  mine  army  beyond  the  sea." 
Act  III. — Scene  /.—Council  Chamber   of    Palace.       Lords   seated  at   table:    Queen  on   the  throne; 
Elizabeth  announces    that     Leicester   is  to  command   her  armies  in   Ireland.     Strongly 
opposed  by  the  Lord  Chancellor;  Leicester  accused  of  treason.     The  Queen  overrules  the 
council;  makes  him  General  and  administers  the  oath. 
Scene  2.—  Council  Chamber—twelve  months  later.     Queen  Elizabeth  presents  the  treasons  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots;  gives  letter  of  commission  for  her  trial. 
Act  IV.— Scene  /.—Room  in  Fotheringay  Castle;  lords,  knights,  captains,  lawyers  and  gentlemen  in 
attendance.      Queen    Mary    before  the  Court;   notes  the  absence   of  the  English   Queen; 
demands  her  presence— Will  be  tried  by  her  peers,  and  not  by  servants  of  lesser  degree, 
Council  show  warrant.     Mary  denies  the  charges;  so  impresses  and  moves  the  Court  that 
Chief  Justice  suddenly  adjourns  the  Court  to  London,  fearing  that  by  her  eloquence  and 
beauty  she  be  acquitted 
Scene  i.-Room  in  Tower  of  London;    Court  convenes  to  convict  Mary;    Montague  speaks 
strongly  for  her;  members  cry  Guilty!  guilty! 
Act  V. — Scene  1. — Palace  of  the  Queen,  Elizabeth  and  train. 

"Q.  E.     Fie,  what  a  slug  is  Warwick,  he  comes  not 
To  tell  us  whether  they  will  that  she  shall  die  or  no. 

Ah!     In  good  time  here  comes  the  sweating  lord."     (Enter  Warwick.*) 
Heannounces  the  decision  of  '•  guilty."     Enter  Lords  of  Council;  they  present  Elizabeth 
the  warrant  for  Mary's  death      She  does  not  sign  it. 

"Q.  E.     My  lord,  I  promise  to  note  it  cunningly; 

But  here  come  the  ambassadors  of  our  brothers  of  France  and  Spain." 
Enter  ambassadors,  who  plead  for  the  life  of  Mary. 
Scene 2. — Street  in  London.     Enter  Burleigh  and  Secretary  of  the  Queen  (Davison);  met  by 

Leicester.     All  enter  a  public  house. 
Scene  j. — Private  room;  Burleigh  and  Leicester  force  the  Secretary  to  forge  the  Queen's  name 

to  the  warrant  for  Mary's  execution. 
Scene  ^.—  Chamber  in  Fotheringay  Castle— Queen  Mary  and  maids.     Enter  English  Lords. 
"Q.  M.     Welcome,  my  lords.-  Why  do  you  come.    Is' 't for my  life? 
Lord  Shrewsbury.     '  Tis  note  midnight,  and  by  eight  tomorrow  thou  must  be  made 

immortal. 
Q.  M.     How!     Mv  lord!     Tomorrow?  tomorrow!     Oh!  that's  sudden. 

Oh!  this  subdues  me  quite. 

*  *  *  * 

Good,  good  mv  lord,  if  /  must  die  tomorrow, 

Let  me  have  some  revet  end  person 

To  advise,  comfort  and  pray  with  me."     (This  is  refused. 1 
Scene 5. — Hall  of  Fotheringay  Castle,  hung  with  black.    Platform  and  block  at  end.    English 
Lords  and  Gentlemen,  executioner,  and  assistants. 
Enter  Queen  Mary  dressed  in  black  and  red  velvet  gown.     The  executioner  assures  her 

"I  will  be  as  speedy  in  your  death  as  all  the  poisonous  potions  in  the  world. 

And yo u  sli a II feel n o pa i?i . ' ' 
Mary  addresses  the  Lords,  denies  the  charges,  asserting  that  they  shed  innocent  blood. 

"And  if  you  tell  the.  heavy  story  right, 

Upon  my  soul  the  hearers  will  shed  tears. 

Yea,  even  my  foes  will  shed  fast  falling  tears. 

And  say  it  zuas  a  piteous  deed  to  lake  me  from 

The  world,  and  send  mv  soul  to  heaven." 

*  *  *  * 

(She  kneels  and  prays): 
"  Oh  God,  hatie  mercy  upon  me,  and  receive  my  fainting  soul  again  !  Oh  be  thou  merciful ! 
And  let  our  princelv  sister  be  satisfied  with  our  true  blood  which,  as  Thou  know'st,  unjustly 
must  be  spilled  !  Oh  God,  send  to  me  the  wa/er  from  the  well  of  life,  and  by  my  death  stop 
effusion  of  Christian  blood  and' '  stablish  quietness  on  every  side!  Let  me  be  blessed  for  the 
i>eace  I  make.     Amen."  (Rises.) 

"  Farewell,  stveet  Lords;  let's  meet  in  heaven 
Good  my  Lord  of  Derby,  lead  me  to  the  block." 

(Speaks  to  Executionei.) 
Finis. 


Queen  Elizabeth's  Dream.  762 

Her  indignation  and  horror  at  the  death  of  Mary. 

"  Queen.  Who  hath  made  bold  with  the  great  seal,  and  who 
Hath  inscribed  my  name?  764 

Leicester.  Your  servant,  th'  secretary, 
Brought  the  warrant  to  us,  the  great  seal  stamp'd  upon't. 

Q.  Then  there  was  a  league  between  you  to  hasten  her 
Untimely  death." 

Foreign  Ambassadors  Presented.  7^5 

The  Queen  explains  to  them  that  her  savage  council  have 
cruelly  slain  Mary,  and  declares  her  intention  to  hang 
her  secretary  for  insubordination, 

Bacon  Resumes  his  "Life  in  France"  767 

Interview  between  Bacon  and  Navarre.  771 

Prayer  of  Navarre.  782 

Intrigues  to  effect  his  escape  from  France.  786 

BOOK  V. 

Continues  Bacon's  '-'-Life  in  FranceP  SOI 

Bacon  discloses  to  Navarre  that  he  is  heir  to  the  throne  of 
England,  lawful  son  of  Elizabeth  and  Leicester. 
Tells  of  his  banishment  and  espouses  Navarre's  cause. 

Navarre^s  Attempt  to  Escape  Frustrated.  834 

The  grand  hunt;  Navarre's  flight. 

Bacon's  Visit  to  the  Huguenot  Camp.  871 

Report  of  same  to  Henry  III.  and  to  Margaret  of  Navarre. 
Plan  of  the  latter  to  escape  to  the  camp. 

Bacon  Discloses  his  Love  to  Margaret.  926 

Ladder  of  cords.  Disappointment.  Interview  with  Friar. 
Farewell  to  Margaret. 

BOOK  VI 

(in  preparation.) 

Conclusion  of  Bacon's  "Life  at  the  Court  of  France."         1001 
Anjou's  desertion  of  the  Huguenots;  his  trifling  successes 
magnified  ;  the  triumphs  or  fetes  in  his  honor. 
Catherine's  revival  of  "  The  Court  of  Love." 

Bacon  Returns  to  England. 

Stormy   interview  with  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Leicester. 
Paulet  attempts  to  negotiate  a  marriage  between  Bacon 
and  Margaret.     Second  banishment.     Visit  to  Italy. 

Bacon  follows  the  Queen-mother  to  the  South. 

Public  Trial  of  Queen  Margaret. 

The  Assassination  of  the  Duke  of  Guise  and  the  Cardinal 
of  Lorraine. 

Henry  LI  I.  and  Navarre  join  forces  to  besiege  Paris. 

Navarre  declared  Heir  to  the  Throne  of  France. 

Assassination  of  the  King. 

Death  of  Nicholas  Bacon;  Francis  Recalled  to  England. 

HOWARD  PUBLISLIING  CO. 

Detroit,  March,  1895. 


<tf»sm^ 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


£> 


o 


•  >MJ/\ll!li    1 1» 


'UV3IIVJ  ]W 


yokmw$* 


iiniiiiiNiiniiimilia. 

L  007  183  640  7 


s>      *S 


y0AHvaar 


^WEUNIVER^ 


mm* 


^•UBRAfiY^.       ^HIBRARYQ? 


S 


5JAM)NIVER£ 


<ttl»SOV 


AWt  UnIVERS'/a 


kf  r*  i  j  i  rni 


3?  -— -' 


'WAflvaq 


*<F 


\\\EUNIVER£ 


L2< 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  370  223    o 


V  5U. 


fARY<: 


KzA 


El%         A0FCA1IF0M 


mvhhii-v 


•UKIVERSy 


£) 


!<  e»     5^1    Iff 


fie 


.5JAHJNIVEF 


L^K 


5:      i? 


^•. 


=o      o 


MWHQ^  <TilJDNVS01^ 


